Wood You Keep a Secret?
by ElaineAbbene
Summary: When Olivia Wood's twin tells her he's signed 2 pro-quidditch contracts & needs her to pretend to be him, she says no. With more than her brother's reputation on the line-she finds herself on the only all-men's team in the league. Even this metamorphmagus is going to have a hard time with her disguise, especially when she keeps running into one of her teammates on and off the field
1. Chapter 1

**Hi! You don't need to read my fic the Maruader's Class of 2018, but in my next-gen world, Murphy is the fourth component of a maurader's that consists of James S. Potter (who is the same age as Teddy Lupin and Victoire Weasley), Teddy Lupin, and Orion Black (Sirius Black's grandson whose father grew up in France). Murphy is a little quidditch obsessed and started playing pro once he got out of Hogwarts in the Summer of 2018. This story finds us about six months later, during the December of 2018. Enjoy**

"So let me get this straight… they are trading you mid bloody season to the bloody Falcons?" sputters James.

I nod and take another gulp of my firewiskey. The burn on the way down is worth it. Especially considering the news I got today.

"And you have no say whatsoever?! They can just trade you… like that?" Teddy snaps his fingers to emphasize the point.

I nod again, smiling slightly as I listen to my two friends rant. They're saying exactly what I wanted to say this morning when coach told me. However, for the sake of professionalism, I smiled and nodded before shaking his hand and wishing him a happy mid season break. I've always been a man of few words, and let's just say Oliver Wood (legendary Keeper) isn't a coach you want to get on your bad side. Besides, it wasn't his decision. It was the bloody management.

"At least you're moving up to first string," puts in Orion hopefully.

"Because their last keeper got a lifetime ban from the game!" I can't help but point out. "They're desperate! They would have taken anyone for the right price!"

"Do tell us you're getting a raise!" says James. "With Orion moving to France after my wedding… and Elaine and I moving to the manor…. Ted's always in Egypt. This place is still a dump from when we all moved in six months ago. You're either going to have to start really investing in this place or get one of your own…"

"I'd get your own place," barks Orion looking around the dingy kitchen we are currently occupying. The place is better suited to a teenage fort rather than a bachelor pad. The four of us Marauders moved into the Shrieking Shack on the outskirts of Hogsmead after graduating Hogwarts last June since Teddy Lupin, or Moony as we sometimes call him, inherited it from his father, who was a werewolf and used to haunt the shack every full moon during his school years.

"I'm planning on it," I say as I realize it's my deal. We're having poker night… probably one of our last in the shack since James' wedding is in less than two weeks, Teddy's in Egypt most of the time, and Orion's already packed for France, a temporary international transfer between the English and French Aurors. Shuffling the cards, I deal as I continue. "I have the entire midseason break to find a new place in Southern England. Maybe I'll even find a place right in Falmouth. I doubt my mid season break is going to be that wonderful though, considering how much training I'm going to have to do to be even moderately ready for the first string. I'll have to memorize a whole new playbook!" I'll have to train my arse off to have even the slightest chance at a run in the playoffs considering that Falmouth is currently sitting dead last in the league… behind even the Cannons… Which is great considering just yesterday I was playing reserve keeper for the number one team in the bloody league.

"Does the keeper really need to know the plays?" asks Teddy. I roll my eyes and try to remind myself that he never was much for quidditch.

"You're the best quidditch player I know… If anyone can pull this off, it'll be you!" says Orion in a reassuring way before laying down the winning hand. Obviously I'm not the best poker player at this table.

 **Five Months Later: May 7th 2019**

"Congratulations on the big season!" says Dominique Weasley to me politely. We are stuck as two of the only single people at the head table of this wedding. Teddy has barely let his bride sit out a song, which considering the fact that she's pregnant with twins seems like she would need more rest. James is twirling his wife Elaine and Orion, well I think he's actually been dancing with Teddy's gran… I'm not sure exactly why. Anyways, I'm stuck here with Dominique… which really could be worse, considering she's gorgeous and actually nice. However, the fact that she's gorgeous, and nice…. And well female… basically means I'm totally incapable of speaking with her like a normal person.

"Thanks," I grunt before taking another gulp of my butterbeer. Did I mention that due to all of the pregnant women, there's an underabundance of alcohol at this wedding? I really hope Orion has a flask on him or this wedding is going to be worse than I thought.

"I mean, rising Falmouth from last place prior to the midseason break, all the way to nearly making the finals… that was impressive. Plus, you managed rookie of the year! If the Magpies seeker had only caught the snitch _seconds_ later… you would have won! I bet Puddlemere was pretty mad they traded you away… especially after their Keeper got injured the first game back and was out the rest of the year!"

I grit my teeth and nod along. I know she's trying to be nice, but honestly… I don't want to hear about my missed opportunity to play first string keeper for my previous team. I read enough articles in the sports section to know that Puddlemere would have at least made the playoffs, if not won the cup had I been the reserve who stepped in after Stagman's career ended on a painful note.

"Aunt Ginny says Falmouth is actually one of her favorite contenders for the cup next year, mostly because of you! And she never says that… considering how much she hates them for being an all men's team!"

"She played on an all girl's team. What's the difference?" I ask with a shrug. I'm not too wild about being on an all men's team either, but at least there are no distractions in the locker room. I think that a few women on the team gets a few more fouls called in your favor and a lot better reputation on and off the field. Plus, they often add an element of speed that men can't bring that easily.

"The difference is that an all men's team is sexist! Women can play just as well as men, and their exclusion of women from their team is positively barbaric!"

"What if I wanted to be a Harpy? Isn't that discrimination against men?" I laugh.

"No, that's feminism, and tradition, and… proving that women can be just as good as men!" huffs Dominique, getting a little red in the face.

"Whatever you say," I say with a shrug. I'm not exactly about to start an argument about the Harpies, especially when I know one of their most famous players (who I happen to like and respect) is here for her niece's wedding. I didn't design the league. I just play in it. And rather well I might add.

 **One month later: June 7th**

I love the smell of a quidditch pitch in the morning. Especially the morning of the first summer practice of the year. The sun is already hot, the grass feels warm under me as I stretch, and the sky is blue and clear. Not exactly your typical English weather, so I'm going to enjoy it. The smell of new equipment that accompanies a new season doesn't hurt either. I'm just itching to get my hands on that quaffle in Coach's hands.

"Alright men, I've got some bad news," he's saying and I snap to attention. Bad news?!

"Johnny up and retired on us! Decided not to renew his contract and left us in the lurch for a left wing chaser."

I literally think I'm going to be sick… Johnny was our captain, not to mention our leading scorer. He didn't even hint that he was thinking of leaving the team two weeks ago at the Season closer. There go our chances of the playoffs for next year. Looking around at my teammates, I can tell everyone is in agreement on how much this blows.

"We'll vote on captain next month after we have a little practice under our belts and our new teammate has joined us."

"We aren't seriously pulling Norton up from the reserves?" snorts Marcus Montague. "We might as well trade someone in from the bloody Harpies!" Considering Julius Norton, the left wing chaser on our reserve team, throws worse than most girls… a player off the Harpies… even their reserve team… wouldn't actually be a bad option. Both our center chaser and our right wing on the reserve throw with their right, so putting them on the left would be a damn disaster. We need a left handed player, and frankly, we need him yesterday.

"Got a leftie coming out of Hogwarts, graduates in less than two weeks, so he'll be here for practice by the 18th. Everyone was recruiting him, so we're bloody lucky we got the contract signed and sealed back in March when Johnny told me he was gonna close out."

They've known since bloody MARCH that we were in the lurch for a right wing chaser, and they only managed a Hogwarts grad? Who could they have possibly pulled? I rack my brain for chasers that should be graduating this year and am coming up blank. Hufflepuff had a real young team last year, none of them graduating, and there weren't many standouts from Slytherin that should be coming out of Hogwarts either. I try and remember who was even on the Ravenclaw team. I can only remember a couple of girls.

"Who is it?" I blurt out… several of my teammates turning to me in surprise. Sure, I don't speak up much, but I am the most recent Hogwarts grad, and likely the only one of us that will know the bloke.

"Oliver Wood Junior," says coach with a self satisfied grin. "And yes, he's the son of The Legend, in case you couldn't figure that one out."

Everyone is still looking a little speculative, but a little better after hearing that name. At least until the next thing that blurts out of my mouth. "He wasn't even on the bloody team last year! Did he even play chaser?" Jaws are dropping.

"Well, he played Keeper for Gryffindor, since they couldn't find anyone to replace you, but apparently he plays an even better left handed chase. He was a pretty fantastic Keeper this year. Scouting reports were off the charts."

"So we're getting a keeper to play our first string left wing chaser?" sneers Montague. "Are you fucking kidding me?" He sounds about as happy as I am… which is about as happy as a merman at a fish fry.

Everyone's protesting now, and coach might be glaring my way. Okay, yeah, he's glaring right at me. Duncan and Rolland, our beaters, look about ready to hit coach with their brand new bats, and Hart, our seeker's eyes look like they are trained on the exit. I wouldn't be surprised if he walked out of practice. Coach blows his whistle to quiet us down again, but I can tell we're all fuming.

"I can promise you he's better than Norton, so shut your pieholes and hit the skies before I give you something to really complain about!" No one can argue with that, so we do as he's told and hit the skies. I have a feeling that training is about to get rough… especially considering that we're bound to be stuck doing drills and not much playing for the next week and half since we don't have a full bloody team. Have I mentioned how much I hate doing land drills?

 **June 13th**

I'm in the middle of the most delicious dream about wint-o-green wiz sticks when I'm quite rudely awakened to a tapping at the window. Being the lightest sleeper in the dorm has many more downsides than it does perks, the only perk I've really found being that I've never been pranked in my sleep during all my years at Hogwarts. Honestly, if you're expecting love notes at three in the morning, leave the bloody window open *cough*Dominique*cough*!

I blindly make my way to the window, not bothering to open my eyes before unlatching it to let her bloody owl inside.

"Livvie!" My eyes snap open at the deep voice, and my eyes are met with the sight of my idiot brother hovering outside our tower window.

"Are you bloody high!?" I exclaim in a scream whisper. "It's three in the morning! What are you doing?"

"Of course I'm high, you dafty. I'm approximately three hundred feet above the ground!" he retorts with a grin.

"We've been over this, you're never going to win Charlotte's affection by stalking our tower. In fact, I think she put on a night mask tonight and would probably send you straight to the hospital wing if she sees you here," I point out helpfully.

"I didn't come to see Charlotte. I need to speak with you," he replies with a roll of his eyes, but I can't help but notice his eyes shoot right to Charlotte's bed. Thank goodness her curtains are drawn. She would die if my brother saw her with her bright green mask on. For as much as she pretends to hate his guts, I think she secretly likes him, which is of course disgusting.

"Can't this wait until morning?" I moan, stepping back to my bed and digging in my nightstand for my wand and a jumper. If I'm going to go flying at this time of night, I'm going to need something more than my cotton nightgown, even if it is June.

"I _really_ need to talk to you," he begs. I kind of like him begging, but from the tone in his voice, I can tell something is seriously the matter. Pulling on an old Puddlemere jumper, I gently let myself out the window and wrap my arms around my brother's waist.

Flying away from the open window, I mournfully regret the fact I didn't at least slip on a pair of socks. The cold night air isn't exactly making my feet feel warm and fuzzy. I could have done with a hair tie as well, since now my hair is going to be entirely unmanageable tomorrow.

We finally land on the eastern facing roof, right next to the chimney that comes from the kitchens. It's kind of our spot. Settling our backs against the warm chimney, I tuck my legs up under my sweater and rub my now numb feet.

"I forgot socks again," I say stupidly when I look up and see Robbie watching me.

"Are you a witch or not?" he asks with a roll of his eyes, before conjuring up a pair for me. They are purple _and_ fuzzy… which happens to be the best kind.

"Thanks," I mumble, pulling them on with a sigh. "So what's the big emergency that it couldn't wait until morning?"

"I fucked up," he says without any preamble. Whatever façade he had up before now has totally dropped, and he looks at me totally desolate. The change is startling, and to be honest, I'm shocked. And Robbie doesn't shock me much.

"Did you get someone pregnant?!" I demand.

"No," he mumbles.

"Are you still going to graduate next week?"

"Yes," he answers.

"Then it can't be all that awful," I say with some optimism.

He runs a hand through his hair, mussing up his already windblown dark brown locks. "I signed two quidditch contracts, one with Kenmare, and one with Falmouth…"

"You did WHAT?!" I shriek, startling more than a few nearby birds as my shout echoes through the night sky. "That's even worse!"

"Falmouth offered me first string left wing back in March, and the deal was too sweet not to take it! I signed a two year contract and was going to tell mum and dad over break. And then everything with Davie's team winning the cup before he got traded to Puddlemere, I didn't want to bring it up and distract from either of our victories, so I was gonna let them know at graduation. But then Kenmare offered me first string center chase… and… I signed that one too… and… I'm royally screwed aren't I?" I watch as he despondently lets his head fall into his lap. My brother has managed to get himself into a right pickle.

"I think your career is over before it's begun. Dad's going to… it's going to ruin us all you know… going back on a contract. Where are you going to get that kind of money to buy out?! What were you thinking!?"

"I don't know!" my twin shouts back at me. "Look! I wasn't! I was thinking... fuck! Kenmare, my favorite team my entire life, offers me even more money to play my favorite position first string, on a team that is a shoe in to at least make the playoffs, if not win it all for the next several seasons!"

"This is going to destroy dad, absolutely destroy him," I whisper again. I'm unable to think beyond the fact that this is the most monumentally stupid thing my brother has _ever_ done. And I mean _EVER_.

"How much would it cost you to buy yourself out?" I ask. Usually it's about half the value of the contract.

"Two million," groans Robbie, throwing himself against the chimney. "STUPID… STUPID… STUPID…"

I think I'm going to throw up. Two. Million. Galleons. My dad's a retired professional quidditch player and coaches now, but that's a ridiculous amount of money. If dad had to pay it off, well Robbie will be paying dad back for the rest of his miserable life (since he won't be able to make his money playing quidditch and will likely have to take a job as a janitor at the ministry or something awful!) It's also going to destroy dad's dream of ever saving up enough money to buy into management. In fact, forget that… dad will probably be fired as well… laughed out of the business since his son can't keep a contract.

"Did you accept the second string position with the cannons yet?" asks Robbie, and since this is nearly completely off topic, I'm a little thrown (in my family, playing quidditch and the many different teams have all been ruled different topics).

"Not yet," I answer without thinking. "No…. no… no, no, no, nonono!"

"Please, I signed my name O Wood! Livvie- you can play for me… you can't tell me you're excited about being offered a second string position with the bloody Cannons…."

I cannot _believe_ my brother. "I can't just pretend to be you! That would be totally unethical… besides, what are they going to do when they realize that you are playing for the other team! I can't believe you didn't learn anything from fourth year!" I counter.

"It's not like you haven't done it a million times!" he protests. "And, I already thought that part out. I'll make some big stink about going by a false name for my first few years, building my own name for myself, without dad, some rot. Besides, I signed the contract O. Wood… It won't technically be a violation of contract. The Falcons will be lucky to have you…"

"You're just forgetting one little thing…" I snort, even though I know snorting is unladylike.

"What's that dear sister?" asks Robbie. He thinks I'm caving.

"The Falmouth Falcons are an ALL MEN'S TEAM!" I exclaim. Once again disrupting the local wildlife.

"As if you haven't impersonated me a hundred times. Look, if it gets out that I double booked myself… well…. It will probably ruin both of our chances for a career in quidditch faster than you can say quidditch. Besides… if anyone got that suspicious just remind them you have a twin. Nevermind that my twin's a girl, people don't pay attention to that. Besides… you looked enough like a boy until we were about, what, fifteen? Sixteen? Whenever, you decided to grow tits…" He so did not say that!

"I did not DECIDE to grow tits! And what do you mean I looked like a boy!? If this gets out that I participated in this charade it will _definitely_ ruin both of our careers! **_Definitely_**! I Enjoy your future working for quality quidditch supplies… as their stock boy!" Summoning my broom from my closet in my room, I manage to storm off, the effect only slightly ruined by my delay on the other side of the roof while I wait for my broom to arrive.

"It's a left wing chaser position! Your favorite!" he calls after me.

 **So there's the first chapter! Hope you enjoyed it! _Keep_ an eye out for the next chapter! Thanks so much for reading and reviewing! Let me know what you think! Ellie**


	2. Chapter 2

**June 28th**

I cannot believe I am doing this. I cannot _believe_ I am doing this. If I am found out, I am going to go to bloody jail. Maybe not Azkaban, that's for hard criminals. But… yeah I'll be in jail all the same.

"You know I love you, right," says my brother cheerfully smiling at himself as he fixes his green and gold practice kit one last time in the mirror. I can't really tell if he's telling me or his reflection.

"I love the extra million galleons you're giving me to pull off this charade. I hope Kenmare finds out you are funneling money to the other team."

"Not the other team, just you dear sister," laughs Robbie buzzing a kiss on my cheek. "Besides, they totally bought the whole thing that there was a mistake on the scouting report that you were a girl. They know that Oliver Junior is playing for Falmouth, and the much more talented, and might I add handsome, Robert Wood is playing for them."

"We'll see who's more handsome after I break your nose!" I snap, raising my fist in his direction.

"Lighten up, Livvie. The only one we have to worry about is dad, who is way too preoccupied with the mess going on at Puddlemere to even notice that there is one too many Oliver Wood look alikes flying around the league this year. Have a good first day," he sings before apparating out of the apartment with a pop.

We* (read Robbie) decided it would be best if we lived together. For the sake of the right hand knowing what the left one is doing… or some nonsense. And since the other option was living at home with mum, dad, and the monsters* (read the rest of my bloody brothers), I decided to agree. Also, Robbie is paying for all of it.

Frowning at my pale face in the mirror, I wish for a little more feminism in my appearance. My hair is long and blond, inherited from my mother, but my chin is square and stubborn from my dad. My lips aren't bad, as far as lips go, and luckily, my mom ensured I have perfectly straight teeth (mild wandwork required). My green eyes I get from my mum aren't bad, but my blonde eyebrows and lashes are drab.

I think the worst part is really the rest of me… which is quite a bit. I'm five foot nine and three quarters. The three quarters part is important because it keeps me from being five ten, which is practically a giantess. Don't get me wrong, long limbs are nice when it comes to quidditch, but not as nice when it comes to finding boyfriends. Because what wizard wants to date a witch that not only kicks his arse every day of the week on the pitch, but looks like she could off it as well?

That's the best part of being a metamorphmagus. I can make myself just a tiny bit shorter. I can keep my height around five eight all day long without a migraine, but if I go any shorter, I'll have a pounding headache by noon. It's really not worth the pain to be honest. And mum goes nuts when I modify my appearance too much. She's okay with the odd hair color, or an impression, but put on a McGonagall face at the dinner table and you're practically grounded for life. Alright… it was probably what I said.

Morphing into Robbie is easier, mostly because he's bigger than me at six three, (and fortunately that doesn't give me a headache). Also I've had a LOT of practice. Like when Robbie double booked himself for dates in Hogsmead. Or when Robbie forgot to study for our transfiguration test and wanted to skip muggle studies during my free period. Or when Robbie doesn't want to serve detention. Or fourth year when Robbie had me take his Defense Against the Dark Arts practical exam for him… nearly getting us expelled _and_ getting us banned from quidditch at Hogwarts until 6th year! Not that I don't love him, but Robbie seriously needs to get his act together. I'm starting to notice a trend here...

Morphing, I grin at my reflection, mimicking the cocky way he does it, before spinning on my heel and apparating to Falmouth.

Looking up at the black and white stadium, I feel myself take an involuntary gulp of air. I'm to be the first woman to infiltrate this all men's team. If I get caught, more than one head will be on the chopping block. If I pull this off, I should be able to make millions on an autobiography in ten years.

Walking into the stadium, I flash a smile and my papers at the security guard. Luckily, I know almost every quidditch stadium in the league like the back of my hand. I practically grew up in these stadiums attending my dad's games. However, they are usually full of screaming fans. It's almost weird to see them empty like this, more intimidating.

Heading down to the locker rooms, I try not to fiddle with my clothes as I walk. I keep wanting to adjust the waistband of my trousers, but men wear them lower than women. I feel like a moron, trying to walk like I have a set of snitches between my legs.

Arriving at the Falmouth locker room, I take one last glup of fresh air for courage before bravely striding inside. I wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing.

The outer room is nice. The lockers are lined up along the left hand side of the room, with a bench for sitting while you lace up your gear. The lockers are nice and big with a shelf for a standard size broom across the top. Mine is already emblazoned with my last name across the top in neat white lettering against the dark wood. The other side of the room has comfy looking chairs set up around a whiteboard that already has several plays mapped out on it. There's an arch into the changing room, where we likely have another set of shelves for towels and shampoo etc, and where the entrance to the toilet and showers should be. I'll be avoiding that area, thank you very much. Shower at home, for luck you know… And also since I don't have the right bits. I draw the line at morphing to that extreme.

I'm just smirking about this as the rest of the team comes in all at once.

"Oh look, it's the Rookie," says the burly beater with bright red hair, whom I happen to know is Duncan Doyle. He's shorter than me, but more than makes up for it in width and brushes past me none too gently, shoving me into the lockers.

"Stay out of my way," snaps Rolland MacDougal the right wing beater as he goes to the locker farthest to the right from mine. He's also much burlier than me.

"Play nice," says Marcus Montague, the oldest player on the team. He also plays a fantastic center chase, and I'm thrilled to get the chance to work with him. "At least until we're on the field, and we get a chance to break him." He snorts before stepping up to his locker and peeling off his shirt. I quickly look away as I realize he is about to change. I also feel the first bit of fear that maybe I've bitten off more than I can chew. This doesn't exactly sound like a team that's thrilled to have me join them.

"Don't listen to them. They're just pissed we've been doing nothing but drills so far this summer, waitin' on you to take your own sweet time graduating and all," laughs Jasper Hart, the smallest man on the team, and also the seeker. I actually think I'm taller than him when I'm not impersonating my brother. He has the locker to the right of mine, which is nice to have some separation from Rolland, who definitely doesn't seem to like me.

"Sorry about that," I say in my best imitation of Robbie. "Nice to meet you, I'm Oliver Wood." I hold out my hand and he looks at me like I shoved a smelly fish under his nose.

"Don't fucking talk to me," he snaps before shucking his trousers.

Spinning again, I turn quickly to avoid seeing my teammate exposed, only to greet the nearly naked Murphy Finnegan. My hand is still extended to greet Hart, and as I spin, manage to slap Finnegan's rock hard abs as he pulls his practice jersey over his head. I quickly retract my hand and feel myself starting to cower as his head pops out and he glares at me with his angry ice blue eyes. I'm totally in for it. He's going to kick my ass.

I'm waiting for it, but he simply turns to his locker and grabs a fresh pair of trousers. I can't believe my luck. I swiftly decide the safest place to direct my eyes is straight into my locker, so I pull it open and pretend to busy myself. There are stacks of clean practice clothes on the shelves along the right hand side while my game kit hangs neatly on the left, WOOD embroidered across the shoulders. Several extra pairs of cleats are lined up across the floor of the locker and the top shelf is clearly for my broom and has a handy broom polishing kit from our sponsor.

Frowning, I notice a piece of white paper sitting atop my black practice jerseys. Opening it, I find a note from one of my teammates. _Hope you're ready to die. Your daddy can't save you here. Hang onto your broom or you'll end up in Mommy's hospital._ This ominous message also has a crudely drawn cartoon of what I can only assume is me falling off my broom with my head detached. Looking up, I glance around to see who might have left me this note. Honestly, at this point, it could be any of them, but I'm pretty much banking it's Gregor Bork, the right chase, when he catches my eye and makes a motion with his hand to mime chopping off his head before pointing to me.

Slumping down on the bench, I reach for my pads. I have a feeling I'm going to need them since they all hate me so much already. I am willing to bet I have a few new bruises by the end of today.

 **So... what do you think!? Hope it made you laugh! Another update coming soon. Thanks as always for reading and reviewing! E.A.**


	3. Chapter 3

By the end of the week I'm absolutely covered in bruises from head to toe. When I morph back to my own form at the end of the day, they are even more obvious since my skin tone is much lighter than my brother's.

This hasn't been my best week ever. First of all, the fact that I've morphed my body to look like my brother's doesn't mean I have my brother's body. Let me explain some weird wizard physics to you. First, my muscles when I look like my brother, are only as strong as _my_ muscles, which compared to the rest of the team is fairly weak. So sure, my arms _look_ like they are bulging cannons of masculinity, but they still only have whatever power I possess. Additionally, when I increase my size, my mass stays the same. So sure, I look like a six three, 90 kilo monster, but I'm still just a 68 kilo lightweight. Let's just say that I got knocked around this week and it wasn't pretty.

And that's not even accounting for the bloody pranks. I don't know who the mastermind is, but it's obvious the whole team is in on them. Except me... obviously.

I mean a live falcon in my locker!? Who has the time to find a _live falcon_ , let alone put it in my locker so it is happy to attack when I open my locker after having fish guts dumped on me as I walked through the door? For some reason, I can help but remember that Murphy Finnegan was a marauder with James Potter and Orion Black and Teddy Lupin. However, of all my teammates, he's the only one who really hasn't said much, although I still get the impression he hates me.

The one positive of this week is that I somewhat managed to hold my own in the game. Sure, I'm the worst at pushups, and I can't lift the hundred kilo barbell for the life of me, and yeah about the third lap running around the pitch at full speed and I think I'm going to literally die. However, in the air, I haven't been awful. At least coach isn't rolling his eyes at me then. I had more than half of the plays down by the first day, and considering I studied that bloody playbook more than I studied for some of my NEWTs…

Besides the fact that I can't seem to keep the other players from knocking me around with their weight, and cobbing me with their pokey elbows, and not so accidentally bashing me with their bats, the flying time hasn't been that awful. I'm probably the quickest on the team, and sure my arm isn't strong enough to pass halfway across the field, but I'm not the keeper, so who really gives a shite? Honestly, if the rest of them would stop bullying me and start trying to get our shit together as a team, we might not be half bad.

Friday night was awful, because I had to listen to Robbie go on and on about how much his team loves him and how great the Kestrels are, and how swimmingly his practices are going, and how fit their Seeker Fiona Weatherby is. Honestly, I could have punched him in the face. Can that moron not see how miserable I am playing for the Falcons?! Not to mention I'm doing it as a huge bloody favor for him! After dinner, I shut myself in my room and the sod went out drinking with some of his new teammates, not to come back until four in the morning.

Despite all my intentions of doing absolutely nothing today, I ended up at mum and dad's babysitting the monsters. Sure, Kenny and Quinn can take care of themselves, but Connor's only eleven and Walter isn't even at Hogwarts, which means they require some supervision. And Kenny is decidedly _not_ a qualified sitter.

We ended up playing a game of pick up quidditch for a few hours, which was probably 'good for me', although I am more sore than ever. I think Kenny is going to be a better Keeper than dad ever was. When mum finally got back from her shift at the hospital, I was more than ready to head back to Robbie's and my apartment. Where I should really put some time into unpacking all of the stuff mum gave us. Looking at the cardboard boxes, I shrug.

Flopping down on the couch, I contemplate ordering Chinese Takeout. And by contemplate, I mean I've decided to order, I'm just waiting to get up and actually do it. To be honest, it's hard to decide what's worse, my sore muscles or my empty stomach. I compromise by summoning the cordless muggle phone and take out menu, designed for just these kind of dilemmas. I think I'll have it delivered.

I've been relaxing on the couch for about twenty minutes when the doorbell rings. Robbie is in the shower, I can hear the water running, so I can't make him get it. Groaning, I roll off the couch and onto my feet, fluffing my ponytail and straightening my pajamas, which happen to be my favorite, covered in red quaffles on Puddlemere blue and gold plaid. Hopefully the muggle doesn't find them too odd. I briefly consider getting a dressing gown to cover my tank top, but the delivery boy is obviously getting impatient, so I just snatch my purse off the coffee table and open the door.

I'm sure I look like a house elf who just broke the nice china. My eyes are as wide as saucers, because my entire team is standing in the hall outside our apartment. I take an involuntary step back and consider slamming the door in their faces, but Finnegan must have read something in my expression, because he takes a step into the doorway.

"Does Wood live here?" he asks in his rich Irish accented voice. Considering this might just be the first time he has spoken to me, I'm a little startled.

"Umm…" I wonder why they are here. Somehow they are all just barging in, and now those stupid beaters Rolland and Duncan have taken over my sofa.

"Cat got your tongue, lovely?" asks Bork, wiggling his eyebrows at me and startling me out of my shock. Eww… is he seriously hitting on me? I am regretting that decision about my dressing gown right now.

"Now see here, I don't recall inviting you in!" I say with more than a little irritation. "You can't just come in here and invade my apartment! I wouldn't have even opened the door if I hadn't thought you were the delivery boy! I'll have you all know…." I'll have them all know what? With lack of a sufficient threat I decide pulling out my wand should be enough.

"Isn't she cute!? She's terrified of us!" laughs Hart from the armchair he plopped into five seconds after invading my apartment.

"Why would _I_ be terrified of _you_?" I growl at him, looking down my nose at the man, whom I might have mentioned is shorter than me, although he probably has a bit of weight on me to be honest.

The doorbell rings again, and this time I'm sure it's the delivery boy, so turning my back on my teammates, I hurry over to get my dinner.

"Thank you very much," I say tipping the young muggle, who looks a little shocked at the abnormal number of overgrown people in this apartment.

"As for the rest of you, feel free to leave," I say holding the door open.

"We'll be waiting for Wood, if you don't mind," says Rolland, making himself more comfortable on the sofa. "Is that food?"

I roll my eyes and head to the kitchen area, unloading my takeout and whipping out a pair of chopsticks. "I'm Wood, and of course it's food."

"So you're the little sister!" exclaims Duncan with a look of amusement.

"I wouldn't exactly call her little," laughs Murphy, causing me to nearly choke on my almond chicken.

"Excuse me?!" I demand between coughs, and his face sufficiently reddens. That's what I thought. He looks like he would like to sputter an apology. "First you invade my home, drape yourselves on my furniture, and then you insult me?!" I thought this weekend was supposed to be a break from seeing these six ugly mugs, and now they have invaded my apartment. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Bork peeking into my takeaway containers. Spinning, I shoot a stinging hex, which he luckily dodges neatly but unfortunately knocks over a box of dishes in the kitchen, causing a clatter.

"Livvie?! You okay!?" I hear my brother call from his bedroom. "Did I hear the doorbell ring?"

I watch as my teammates perk up at the sound of Robbie's voice and sly looks pass between them. Whatever they came here for tonight is not something I'm interested in… and really, he owes it to me. I don't really feel bad for what I'm about to do.

"Sounds like Robbie just got out of the shower," I say to them before calling back. "ROBBIE, SOME FRIENDS HERE TO SEE YOU!"

"Great, be right out!" he calls back. I watch the boys go from relaxed to alert planning mode and smirk into my dinner. Dearest twin, I love thee, but not that much.

Catching Montague's eye, we discretely position ourselves at either side of the archway leading to the bedrooms. I glance at Girl Wood, wondering if I should be concerned about how she's going to react when we kidnap her brother. She looks like she's hiding a smirk in her takeout box. She probably has a decent idea of what's about to happen. Rolland and Duncan aren't exactly being subtle.

To be honest, I think we were all a little shocked when she answered the door. I mean, we knew Wood had a twin, but I don't remember her being a girl, or a bloody fit one at that. I mean, it isn't every day that you stumble upon a bloody supermodel in her pajamas. Okay, so I'm speculating about the supermodel thing, but she honestly looks like one. She reminds me a bit of Victoire, with her blonde hair, but she's much taller, and more muscular. She looks like she'd be up for a round of quidditch on or off the field, if you know what I mean. Definitely not the breakable type, although I'm noticing she has quite a few bruises on her arms, and what might be a black eye under a glamour charm.

"What are you looking at Finnegan?" she sneers, sending me a dirtier look than I think I deserve. This one is _not_ friendly. I thought I remembered her being in Gryffindor, but maybe she was a Slytherin. They tend to have snarkier attitudes. Hearing a door open, we wait a few seconds for Wood to enter the room with a confused face before we pounce on him.

"What…" his question is broken off as Monague and I pounce. Wood seems much more solid than he does at practice, and he immediately starts putting up one hell of a fight, requiring Bork to step in and help us subdue him.

"Have fun boys!" calls his sister with a wave of her chopsticks as we drag her brother out of their apartment bound and gagged. I'd almost say she was taunting him.

Fifteen minutes later, we've apparated to the outskirts of Hogsmead and have flown to the roof of the shack. The guys know I used to live here, and we decided it was a pretty great place for a hazing. Familiar, but bone chillingly spooky.

"Couldn't you have used something better than Montague's old sock to gag me, you morons!" snaps Wood as soon as we take out his gag, which yeah, is one of Montague's old socks. He swore it was clean! Wood hasn't shown this much fire all week. He's taken every one of our pranks like a man. Although the falcon in his locker… he probably could have been seriously hurt in retrospect.

"Welcome to HELL!" screams Montague, effectively shutting him up. Montague vanishes the majority of his clothes, and Duncan does the honors of spraying him with traditional swamp slime. Right from Falmouth bog.

"Fuck that's cold!" exclaims Wood, cringing.

We continue with the rest of the stupid rituals the team has developed over the past several hundred years, many of which are more than a little mean, including the traditional dangling from the ceiling naked while we eat a steak dinner. I don't exactly feel comfortable with the whole hazing thing, but we've all been through it. Besides, nothing is as bad as the last bit. Which to be totally honest, I think should be eliminated altogether. It's just… wrong.

As the night progresses, some of the things are genuinely funny, and Wood has been a general good sport all night. Dragging him down to the empty basement, we secure a shackle around his ankles, the chain tied to the wall.

"Now, if you make it through the night, you'll be one of us. Luckily, there's only three hours till morning," laughs Duncan as we all file out of the room. "Don't worry, we'll let you have some company!" He tosses the unlocked trunk into the room and we shut the door. This is the part where I nearly shat my pants during my initiation. Until I realize what it was.

Despite knowing what it's like being on the other side of that door, I'm totally startled by what happens next. The most Merlin awful screaming I have ever heard is coming through the door. I've never heard someone sound so anguished, and I'm ready to bolt in there, but Rolland is holding me back, whispering, "Wait, wait!"

 **I promise I won't leave you hanging long! In the meantime, thanks for reading, and please review! I love hearing what you guys think!**

 **E.A.**


	4. Chapter 4

The whole evening has been half a laugh, half a test of keeping my temper in check, and half wishing I could get my hands on my traitor sister. She had to have known what was going to happen when these six devils showed up at our apartment. Honestly, I can't believe she let them in!

I know that initiation ceremonies are part of joining most professional teams, but honestly, this one blows. It's one hazing ritual after the next, and most of them are just stupid. Drinking vertiserum and being forced to reveal "secrets" about myself was just stupid. They didn't even ask anything interesting! I have a feeling it's coming to an end soon. Doyle, the idiot left beat, is positively gleeful about what's coming next.

Okay, so I'm chained in an empty room by myself…. Great.

"Don't worry, we'll let you have some company!" he calls out as he tosses in a large trunk and slams the door.

The trunk flips across the floor before landing on its side when the lid pops off. A body rolls out of the trunk onto the floor, and I lose it. I'm screaming as I claw against the shackles on my legs, dragging myself across the floor to my sister's body. What did they do to her? What the fuck did they do? I can barely reach her outstretched hand, but wrapping my fingers tight around her wrist, I pull her to me. Pulling her limp body to me, confirms what my eyes told me. Her hair is matted in blood, and her eyes are open and staring blankly into the distance. Her body is completely mangled, her left leg feels completely shattered and there is blood dripping from her lips, likely a punctured lung.

Someone is wailing as I bury my face in her long blonde hair, rocking her in my arms. How did this happen? How did this happen to me. Livvie, Livvie…. Livvie… what have they done to you?

* * *

Something's not right. Wood is sobbing like a baby behind the door, and they aren't screams of terror, never were. This is different from the fox that popped out of my trunk and made the hare in me shake with fear before I remembered I wasn't in my animagus form and was much larger than the fox.

"Alright, I think we should call it off," says Hart as I am already pushing past Doyle and grabbing the handle. "This isn't funny. I think something's off on his boggart."

"No fucking kidding," I snap before pulling the door open.

Fuck… I couldn't have imagined this. He's cradling his sister's broken body and sobbing like a baby. No one deserves this. This isn't just a fear, it's a nightmare. Her black and grey kit is covered in blood, as is her hair, but she's clearly recognizable as the sister we met earlier this evening. And she's dead. Wood looks ten years older as he doesn't even register us entering the room. He's kissing her forehead and sobbing as he tries to neaten her bloody, tangled hair.

"Ridiculous!" I shout, causing her hair to turn rainbow colored before I let out a loud "HA! HA! HA!" which while not genuine laughter in the least, is enough to send the boggart back into its trunk as Hart slams on the lid with a guilty look. Behind me in the doorway, Doyle looks sick with guilt and MacDougal has tears in his eyes.

"LIVVIE!" Wood is screaming, trying to claw his way toward the trunk. "NO!"

"It was a boggart, a BOGGART!" I insist, approaching him. He takes a wild swing at me and manages to hit me square on the nose, likely breaking it. I'll probably have a nice pair of black eyes as well. "It wasn't real!" I continue, grabbing both his arms and shaking him. "BOGGART!"

His sobs eventually dwindle off, and he just looks exhausted.

"We're sorry, we didn't know," says Montague, stepping forward finally as the fight sinks out of Wood. "We'll take you home now. The whole thing's pretty much over anyways."

"You're all assholes. I can't believe you would do this to anyone, let alone your teammate," growls Wood, the tone in his voice indicating his anger.

"Finnegan, take him home. Hart, clean up this mess. Doyle, MacDougal, Bork, come with me," barks Montague gravely. "Wood, don't worry about showing up for practice until noon on Monday."

Apparating the still shaking Wood to his apartment, I ring the bell. It's four in the morning, but we didn't bother taking his key with us when we kidnapped him last night. I have to ring it a few more times before I hear shuffling behind the door. Wood can barely stand, and he's still sobbing quietly when the door opens slightly and his beautiful sister peeks out at us before gasping.

"LIVVIE," he sobs, throwing himself into her arms, the volume of his sobs increasing again as he runs his hands through her hair and kisses both of her cheeks before holding her tightly and sobbing into her neck.

"Robbie?" she whispers, shocked, likely by her brother's display of affection, his disheveled appearance, and possibly the smell. He doesn't exactly smell like fresh spring rain right now. "Hey, it's okay, it's okay. Let's… get a cup of tea. I have some wint-o-green wiz sticks in a drawer." She shoots me a glare over his shoulder, and I literally feel like the worst wizard in existence. She pulls him inside and snaps the door in my face.

We should have thought of this possibility. But most young quidditch players don't have the strong attachments that usually lead to those kinds of boggarts. We knew Wood had a twin sister, but obviously they're closer than we thought. Interesting that his worst deepest fear is his sister dying in a quidditch accident. I'm pretty sure she was being recruited to play professionally.

* * *

After working out what happened to my brother, I'm both horrified and relieved it didn't happen to me. I would have been exposed for sure, if I hadn't morphed under the pressure of everything else, I think the boggart would have done me in. Not that it didn't do in Robbie. He's slept _in my bed_ with me two nights in a row now, and each night he's woken me several times to reassure him that I'm alive and okay. He wouldn't leave my side all day at Sunday dinner, and vetoed the family quidditch game in favor of a _gobstones tournament_. Even Kenny asked if he was alright. Kenny doesn't usually notice much besides what we're eating for dinner and who has the quaffle.

Reassuring Robbie, I finally convince him to go to practice on Monday. I think some quidditch with a set of teammates that didn't torture him this weekend will do him good. Also, I'd like the chance to go to the bathroom without him following me to the door. I get ready for practice leisurely, since Robbie let me know that I apparently don't have to come in until noon, which I confirmed with coach via owl yesterday.

I cruise into the locker room at ten till, my broom over my shoulder, and feeling pretty good. I had a mid morning fly to loosen up my muscles from the inactivity of the last day or so. Felt amazing.

All six of my teammates are sitting on the bench, dripping in sweat, looking absolutely exhausted when I walk in, and coach is sitting across the room with a frown on his face. Fuck…. I must be bloodly late after all! This must have been some last piece to the hazing ritual.

"Go on!" barks Coach Birch from the other side of the room as the six of them stand up.

"I'm really genuinely sorry about the other night, for all of it, but especially for… the part with the boggart," says Duncan Doyle stepping forward with a shameful face. I'm shocked, and I'm sure it's showing on my face.

"Apology accepted," I say somewhat automatically.

"I'm sorry that you had to suffer such an awful experience," says Gregor Bork stepping forward. He offers me his hand in apology and I shake it with a nod.

Down the line each of them offers me an apology. At the end of the line is Coach, who claps me on the back a little too hard, nearly knocking me off my feet.

"Thanks for accepting the apologies. They came to me Saturday morning, nearly gave me and the Mrs. a heart attack. They wanted me to know what they had done, wanted to be held responsible. They've been working their asses off since four this morning, and we still have a long day of training ahead of us. I wanted you to know that they were being held accountable for their actions, and that I'm not going to stand for anymore funny business like this. We're a team, and we're going to treat each other like one. Management and I also agreed that they would have to pay a fine out of their contracts. We're offering it to you now, and we were thinking you might like to use it to buy yourself a newer model broom. Not that there's anything wrong with the one you got, but there's a new Lightning out this season, and it's mighty fine chaser's broom."

I give Coach a smile and a nod. "Thanks. Go ahead and order a broom. My brother let me try his out last weekend, and it's a beauty. Handles like a dream."

"In the future, you can come to me if there's something going on. I expected to hear from you all day yesterday, or from your father," says coach.

"I…" I'm lost for words, because it honestly hadn't occurred to me to whistle blow my teammates, even though they clearly tortured my brother. It didn't even occur to Robbie. "I just needed to the day off to get my wits about me. It's all in the past now. I can tell everyone genuinely feels bad about it all. I think we're better off putting it behind us and building our team so we can win some matches this season."

"You sound like your Pa!" laughs coach, clearly relieved that I'm not going to make a bigger deal of this than it already has been. "Alright, suit up, afternoon practice starts in ten!"

 **Hope you liked the chapter! Let me know if you think the changing points of view are too difficult to understand! Thanks for reading and reviewing! I've got another update prepped soon! E.A.**


	5. Chapter 5

The rest of the week flies by. And that was not meant to be a pun. Compared to the first week, it's a complete 180. Doyle and MacDougal aren't aiming every single bludger at me, although, it still feels like a fair number. Montague and Bork are integrating me into the chase team, and I honestly think I'm impressing coach with my play. Hart has started up a merry dialog with me in the locker room, always giving unsolicited advice about how to avoid bludgers, and how to pick up ladies. I don't think I would mind it if he wasn't constantly in a state of undress during these fascinating conversations. Finnegan is quiet, which I'm starting to think is pretty typical. The most I've heard him speak is with coach, discussing plays. But he's friendly enough, in his quiet way, although he sure isn't making my job any easier. He's one hell of a keeper.

By Friday, I'm still exhausted, and sore, but not nearly as bruised and battered as last week. It's been a great week and the promise of two days off is thrilling. I zoom off the field on my new Lightening, which I adore, and hurry into the lockers. If I can get my bag together before the rest of them start stripping, I won't have to see so much naked man this afternoon. Believe me, in the past two weeks, I've seen more of my teammates than I would like. I feel like I'm violating their privacy, and honestly… it just feels mortifying to have Marcus Montague, who I've followed in quidditch since he started with the Wasps six years ago, talk to me in his skivvies. My roommate Charlotte had his poster on our dorm wall all of third year until he got traded to the Falcons in April 2015.

I'm in such a rush, I nearly plow into Finnegan on my way out.

"Wood," he calls to me. Just as I was managing to slip out as well. I hold in a sigh. "Sorry to hold you up, but I have something for you," he crosses to his locker quickly and grabs something small. "I've been working on it all week with my friend Teddy. He's ace at charms, and really helped with some of the enchantments." He hands me two little gold button looking things shaped like quaffles. I turn them over in my hand.

"What are they?" I ask, puzzled.

"I think I'll call them Quick Save Quaffles. One of my better ideas actually. They're charmed so that if the wearer takes a spill off their broom, a fall breaking spell will kick in before they hit the ground. After I saw… you know… I thought…" he pauses and scratches his head. "One's for you and one's for her. They're supposed to be an apology of sorts. You know… for everything." He's looking at me hopefully. Honestly, this is the most he's spoken to me, and I would have never guessed he would take the time to do something so nice for a teammate. He's seemed pretty out of touch with everything but quidditch, never contributing much to team conversation. For him to have done this… well…

"Thanks," I say. "How did you test them?" I ask, wondering how well these things really work.

"Very carefully," he says with a genuine laugh. He has a nice laugh, and a nice smile. "Jumped off my broom over the black lake at increasing heights. At least if you hit the water, it's a little better than the ground."

"You should sell them. You'd make a fortune off my family alone. My mum would probably buy ten."

"Just lace one onto one of your boot strings, and you'll never forget it. I've been wearing mine all day, and I didn't even notice it. When I make some more, I'll try and get some for the whole team, but I wanted to you have some of the first. Let me know if you need more for your family," he says before heading to his locker. Looking down at the little gold quaffles, I can't help but grin. Robbie is going to love these! And maybe he'll stop going on about me being careful at practice.

My dad insisted on testing the charm, jumping off his broom above our swimming hole at various heights until my mom insisted he stop at a hundred meters. He's incredibly impressed with the charmwork, and is already talking about ordering them for his whole team if my friend decides to make them commercially available. Mum is over the moon, and told me she knows an investor who would likely be interested in making the products commercially available if my friend is interested. I'm pretty sure she's talking about Uncle George, but I'm not sure if Finnegan will want to move forward with it all, so I'll have to ask him first. Robbie was thrilled about the whole idea and insisted I wear mine all the time.

"So how are things going with the Kestrels?" I ask Robbie the next day as we make some progress on unpacking all the things mum got for our new apartment.

I don't know if mum actually thinks one of us is going to cook, or if she just wanted to get rid of all these old kitchen supplies. For as much money as mum and dad have, my mum is pretty much the most frugal person ever. Dad swears it's from during the war when she was forced to get by on next to nothing, but mum _never_ gets rid of anything she might have a purpose for later, and _rarely_ gets something new that we don't _need_. If dad hadn't insisted on moving to a place with room for an outdoor quidditch pitch, we would probably still be living in the apartment in London where I was born. Davie actually lives there now. He's been playing first string since he graduated, first with the Arrows and now he's dad's star right Chase. I'm not exactly looking forward to playing him, and I'm not sure exactly how we're going to convince dad that I'm Robbie. Since I'm playing as Oliver Robert Wood, and Robbie is playing under the stage name Robert Bellringer. My style is nothing like Robbie's.

"It's going great! I can't wait for our season opener against the Bats. It's gonna be amazing! You're coming right?"

"Our opener is the next afternoon, of course I'm coming," I assure him, critically evaluating one of the mysterious kitchen utensils mum gave us. I'm not sure exactly what it is, or really what it's even supposed to do. I toss it in our specialty utensil drawer with a shrug after Robbie shakes his head in confusion as well.

"You're playing the Magpies, right?" he asks.

"Yup, and with them coming off a good run in the playoffs last season, I know coach is pretty worried. Wish we had a cake opener against the Bats like you," I reply with a grin. I just know it's going to set him off that I've implied it's an easy match.

"Cake!? I'll show you cake!" laughs Robbie pulling out a whisk. "In fact, I'll turn you into cake!" Laughing, we abandon our unpacking to run around the apartment like five year olds. Mum would be proud.

Four weeks into practicing with the team, I'm actually starting to enjoy being a Falcon. I mean sure, I'm stuck in Robbie's stupid body half the day, and I have to constantly avoid seeing naked men, and well… there's a general air of crudeness that comes with being part of an all men's team. But they're a nice lot… and I'm used to my overabundance of brothers. Between my techically "Uncle" Davie, who has always been more of an older brother considering my parents raised him after my grandparents died, and my twin, and my four younger brothers, I've always been the only girl on an all boys team. Dad's like the coach, and mum's management and medical rolled into one.

Rolland and Duncan really aren't bad once you get to know them. And I've gotten loads better at avoiding bludgers since I joined the team. Montague, Gregor, and I are like a well oiled machine now. Between the three of us, we have a couple secret weapons. Gregor's been training on his left handed throw, which is a sneaky move coming from a right wing chaser. He's actually pretty dang good, but not nearly as good as me. I've been training to be a left wing my whole life though. Montague's really worked on some of his form, and his accuracy with his throws is amazing. Me on the other hand, I've got speed. It's fun to watch them try and catch me during speed drills, and Coach says he's never seen the like. I have a feeling it has to do with the fact that I'm much lighter than I look. And my fancy new broom.

Hart's really been working on his dives or whatever seekers actually _do_ during practice. Al Potter used to spend most of his time staring off into space, but he seemed to get the job done on game day. Sometime I should ask Quinn what seekers actually _do_ to train for games.

The one concern I have is Finnegan. I can't get much past him, and none of us chasers seem to have much on him. When they bring in the reserves for us to scrimmage against, it's even worse. I can't tell if he's _that_ fantastic or if the rest of us are just bloody awful. I'm lucky if I get two goals and a near miss a practice. I guess we'll find out our first game, but if practices are anything to go by, our games might be very low scoring.

The season opener between Kenmare and the Bats is a hotly contested Rivalry. My mum being Irish has always meant we enjoyed this game between the two Irish teams in the league. Since Robbie and I have green eyes, we also have more than a few Kenmare Jerseys. I dusted off my vintage O'Hare Jersey for the match. They've always been Robbie's and my very favorite team, besides dad's of course. Mum helped with that considering she's a big fan. Mum and everyone else are at the Puddlemere game, mostly because they don't realize that Robbie is _actually on_ the Kestrels. I have the excuse of them as my favorite team for why I'd rather attend this match than Davie and Dad's opener against the Arrows. Unfortunately, I think Puddlemere is going to be crushed, mostly because their keeper is a moron. Dad's still complaining that management traded Finnegan away six months after the fact. It's been a fiasco for the team, and dad has been pretty distraught.

Sneaking into the player's box isn't hard since security knows me. I've watched a hundred games from all thirteen stadium's players boxes since I was small. I'm a recognizable face in most stadiums. The player's box is perfectly located for a good view of the game and always reserved for players of other teams who aren't currently playing a match. They're often empty, but sometimes a rival team player will sit in on a match to observe the competition. We're not playing Ballycastle until week 7, and Kenmare until week 9, but if I can take some notes on their keeper and their chasers, I can keep some things in mind before we play them. Although, I'm sure I'll see Kenmare again.

Luckily our schedules barely overlap, so I'll be able to see most of Robbie's games. Even better is the fact that he plays most of the more difficult teams in the league early in the season while the Falcons have a much more heavy second half of the season. I'll get to see the toughest competition before we play them.

I laugh out loud as Barny the Fruitbat enters the stadium. He's probably my favorite mascot, simply because he's so ridiculous. The Leprechauns that storm the field after him, cause the wizard under the costume to sway drunkenly before falling on the ground making it all the more comical.

Someone taking a seat next to me startles me out of my laughter at his antics. Looking over I'm surprised to see Finnegan sitting down with a notepad. He's wearing a muggle ballcap that shadows his face and a plain black t-shirt, but I can see a green pin on his cap brim that makes me think he's rooting for Kenmare.

"Finnegan," I say by way of greeting. After saying it, I realize it probably sounds a little cold coming from me, practically a stranger. He's thinking of me as his teammate's sister, not his teammate right now.

"Fan of Barny the Fruitbat?" he asks me in greeting.

"Who isn't?" I joke. "Here to take notes on the competition?" He nods and pulls out a muggle pen, convenient those are. I brought one myself.

I reach into my bag and find my own things for notes, pleased to look up and find the captains already shaking hands and Robbie sitting proudly on his broom ready to go. He's charmed his dark brown hair a red that clashes horribly with his green robes and makes him look like a Weasley at Christmas. I'll have to make fun of him for that later. I can also detect a slight alteration to his appearance that makes him look different enough that you wouldn't recognize him unless you know it's him. Some kind of glamour charm.

"What team are you playing for? Didn't see your name on any of the rosters," Finnegan says, noticing my things.

"Oh, um… just taking some notes for Robbie. He went to the Puddlemere game to watch dad and my older brother Davie. This is always one of my favorite match ups," I improvise an excuse quickly. Pretty brill if I do say so myself.

"That's nice of you," compliments Finnegan before totally ruining it. "Write on there to keep his elbows in. He only tucks them before passing or shooting. Totally gives it away."

My first reaction is a burning anger. I do _so_ keep my elbows tucked! Surely coach would have said something! Who does Finnegan think he is?! I'm so enraged thinking this over, that I miss the tip, and have to double take as I watch the Bats take the first possession, quickly to be stolen away by the right Wing chase on the Kestrels. Settling in, I try and take notes while ignoring Finnegan. I do _so_ keep my elbows tucked!

By the end of the game, I'm pleased to find I've scribbled at least five pages of notes on the players, focusing a lot of my attention to Ballycastle since I plan on seeing a lot more Kenmare games.

"Kenmare's rookie center chase has a much stronger right side defense. Whenever he loses the ball, it's from his left, which isn't common for someone who holds the ball with their left to be better guarded on their right. Tell your brother to capitalize on that when we play them game nine," says Finnegan packing up his things and leaving. "See you at your brother's game tomorrow?" he asks, turning at the door to face me.

I can't believe he picked up on Robbie's weak side. Dad's been after Robbie for years to fix it, but Robbie gets lazy playing so much with me as his left wing who has his left almost instinctively. It's also not something most people can pick up on after one match that only lasts a few hours.

"I'll be around," I say, shaking off the shock. Maybe I need to look into that elbow thing.

 **Thanks for reading and reviewing! Let me know what you think! E.A.**


	6. Chapter 6

The next day, I'm positively nauseous with nerves about the game. What if I'm found out? What if I play terribly? What if it's a total whomping? Robbie's planning to watch in the player's box under his glamour charms. I've told my parents I want to watch from the stands with my friend Charlotte, and hopefully they don't look too hard for us since neither of us will be in the stands. Charlotte's probably still sleeping.

It's a home game, so that's a plus, but we're playing the Magpies, who finished third in the league last year just behind the Arrows and The Pride. I arrive quite early, already fully dressed, as usual, wearing the black game kit for the first time. I've already strapped on half of my gear before Duncan and Rolland arrive together, laughing and looking totally relaxed.

"Aww, don't be nervous little rookie!" laughs Duncan.

"We won't let any big bad bludgers hit you today!" reassures Rolland.

"Just watch out for those pointy elbows on Natalie Kirkland. She might look like a total babe, but she's a total bitch," advises Duncan as he starts undressing.

"Don't let the blonde hair and blue eyes distract you, she's tougher than she looks," chips in Rolland with a wink before fluttering his eyelashes and making a kissy face. "The girls in this league give it just as good as you or I, so be prepared and don't be afraid to hit back."

If they think I'm worried about playing against a girl or two, they're about to be surprised. Being a girl, I have no qualms about a little push and shove when it's needed… and not in violation of the rulebook.

Finnegan shows up ten minutes before coach, who gives us a nice little talk about how we're prepared, and now we just need to go out there and show them what we've got. He also manages to toss in the team motto, which I've never much cared for. _Let us win, but if we cannot win, let us break a few heads_.

By the time we fly out of the lockers, my hands are sweating and I'm honestly worried about morphing my hair color. However, the loudness in the stadium is something I grew up listening to. It's actually comforting to hear the crowd. Looking over to the Family Box, I smile and wave at my family, who are taking up more than their fair share of the front row. Mum was always excellent with her elbows. First rate cobber.

Touching down on the field, I line up in the left chase position. I'm crouched and ready to kick off at the sound of the whistle, and I'm poised and ready to get the toss. Usually the center Chase goes for it, but since I'm the speediest, I've been assigned the task. We've practiced it a hundred times.

Everyone in the stadium seems to hold their breath, and there's the whistle. Off like a rocket, I'm almost surprised I got the toss, until I remember I'm me, and I'm kind of awesome. Ignoring the cheers at my successful possession, I veer toward the hoops and fall into position with Montague and Bork.

Looking ahead and focusing on the hoops, I'm almost a little surprised to see we aren't facing down Finnegan. Of course I knew we wouldn't be trying to score on him, but since we usually are… I eye their keeper, a tall blonde man, who I know from previous encounters has a heavy Danish accent. Montague gives a signal and I forget everything but focusing on the play, passing to Bork on cue.

Three minutes later Montague shoots it through the right hoop and the crowd goes wild. No time to celebrate for me though, Natalie Kirland's retrieved the quaffle, and we've got a job to do. Putting on some speed, I catch up to her easily, ducking below her before punching it out of her loose grasp. Duncan's comment this morning reminded me how well she guards her sides with her elbows. It also gave me the idea to try and steal from below. Snatching the ball out of the air, I loop lazily around the shocked seasoned player and reverse the direction of the play.

By the end of the game, I know I've proven myself on the field once and for all. The final score was 380 to 90. It was already an embarrassing loss for the Magpies before Jasper caught the snitch, and I put up a not too shabby seven goals. I also managed the most steals, which Dad is sure to find uncharacteristic for Robbie, who had a breakout 9 goals yesterday with only a single steal. It's just not where his talent lies.

* * *

By the time I get home for Sunday dinner, after Coach's post game session and showering at the apartment, Robbie's already there, soaking up the glory from _my win_. I hadn't realized how much it was going to bug me to see him taking the credit for _my_ goals, and _my_ steals. Dad's in his element, reliving the game with Robbie. The only thing that keeps my spirits up is the fact that about halfway through the conversation dad announces that he doesn't think he's ever seen Robbie play quite so well. Inside I'm positively preening my falcon feathers and dancing to a little victory tune. That's about the same as Dad saying I'm better than Robbie! Although, he didn't get a chance to see Robbie play yesterday, which was the best I had ever seen him play. Robbie seems to appreciate me telling him this the next morning over breakfast before we head to practice.

* * *

After our first big win, the team seems really fired up. Our first practice back, we immediately have to start focusing on the match on Saturday against the Cannons. Not that we have to focus so terribly hard, mind you. But, focus we must.

Our first practice starts out with a little more joking than usual, but we're quickly back to business. Thinking back to this weekend I focus the entire practice on keeping my elbows tucked. I manage the most goals I've ever scored on Finnegan in a practice. Coach is giving him a hard time for celebrating too much last night, but Finnegan just gives me a knowing look.

"So your sister told you she saw me?" he asks, pulling his sweaty practice kit over his head.

I pretend to be occupied with changing my shoes, which is about all I ever end up doing after practice since I don't feel comfortable changing in a room full of men while I pretend to be one. Yeah it's a little too weird. "She might have mentioned it," I reply, trying to sound casual.

"Good job keeping your elbows in today," he compliments, and I feel my face take on a slightly warm glow.

"Thanks for the advice," I say. So I guess I do relax a little too much in my elbows. New thing to focus on.

* * *

The entire week, we are getting ready for our game against the Cannons. I'm fully expecting to win this one, but I try to focus on keeping my elbows in and perfecting my throws. I've still been doing really well scoring, and coach has really noticed. I caved and told him that the advice from Finnegan was what led to the improvement.

Our game against the Cannons is a Saturday afternoon game, and Puddlemere is playing at the same time, so only about half of the family make it to the game. Afterward, at the apartment, Robbie can't believe I scored 15 goals. I mean, the score was a ridiculous 520 to 10, but it was impressive. Since I did so well at practice last week, Gregor and Montague passed to me quite a bit and it ended up being very successful. Coach was over the moon about my rookie performance the last two games. Especially because I continued my stealing streak, managing a decent number with eight.

* * *

"Mum and dad are going to be over the moon!" Robbie's laughing as I towel dry my hair. "Keep this up, and Dad's going to try and get you traded to United as a center chase. He knows I play an even better center chase."

"Well I don't!" I reply. "If that happens, this charade is over. I couldn't handle hiding this from dad daily." I hate playing center chase because you have to watch both sides a little more closely. It's harder to hear a bludger coming toward you when you constantly have the entire field around you. When you play more to one side, there's more sense of awareness. I also have a harder time passing to the left than Robbie does. Overall, I'm much better in the position I'm trained for.

"I was just saying…" says Robbie, realizing just how awkward it would be if dad tried to trade for me.

"This thing is complicated enough already," I sigh. "What about you? Are you ready for your game against the Arrows tomorrow?" The fact that the Arrows demolished Puddlemere last week and are still high from winning the cup last season makes it a big match.

Robbie shrugs his shoulder casually. "I don't think they're anything special. We've been prepping hard for this game all summer."

"Well, let's head home for some of mum's spaghetti. You'll need lots of energy for tomorrow," I say offering my hand to apparate home.

* * *

The next day I'm wearing my Kestrel's attire again. I opted for a green and yellow tank top that has the double K's across the back. I paired the tank with a white cotton skirt because they are playing at the Arrow's stadium which has the worst heating and cooling charms of any in the league, including the Cannons. It's still September, and hotter than what I consider comfortable in Appleby stadium.

I'm only in the player's box a few minutes, long enough to take out my notebook, when I can already feel sweat starting at the back of my neck. I cast a cooling charm of my own, even though they rarely last long in non-enclosed spaces like this player's box with an open front. Digging in my satchel, I find a hair tie and start trying to do something about my hair.

"Lovely afternoon."

It's that Irish brogue again. Both of my hands are tangled in my hair, trying to create a smooth pony, and all I can think is, _Did I shave my underarms?_ Finnegan already has his notebook out, and has settled his giant, six five frame into one of the seats just across the aisle from me. He's got sunglasses on today, so I can't see his blue eyes, but his auburn hair looks windblown, like he flew here rather than apparate.

"Finnegan," I say with a nod, securing my pony and fluffing a little. Merlin, I hope it looks alright. One can never be positive when you don't have a mirror. I discretely reach into my bag and pretend to reapply some lippy while I'm actually checking my hair in the mirror. I also evaluate my pits, which are thankfully hair free.

Looking over, I see he's taking notes again. "Worried about the Kestrels, or just wanted to see the Arrows this week?" I ask before I can stop myself.

"I'm a Kenmare fan," he says gesturing to his shoes, which I now notice are laced with green strings. "Seeing the Arrows this early in the season is a bonus."

"I've always been a Kenmare fan. Don't tell my dad, but I might just like them better than United," I agree with a wink. "If I played professionally, I would have liked to play for Kenmare… or the Harpies. I like to think that green is my best color."

"I think you'd look good in any color," blurts Finnegan. I do a double take at him as both of us break out in blushes. "I mean… why didn't you try to play professionally?"

"Something else came up," I answer vaguely.

"What do you do then?"

Merlin, he's chatty today. He's been awfully quiet at practice all week, maybe he's been saving up his weekly quota of words and wants to use them up before tomorrow. "Umm… Robbie's hired me to take care of some things for him, and I've been working on my quidditch."

The official story with my parents is that I've taken a year off to find myself and train before trying to get onto a first string or better reserve team than the Cannons. To keep mum from nagging me about living off Robbie's money, they also think I have a part time job waitressing in a muggle restaurant in London. I've managed to evade most questions about that. Dad thinks I'm wasting my talent, and mum thinks I should train in something practical if I'm not going to start a quidditch career now. I couldn't exactly tell them the truth though.

"If you're looking for a Keeper. I'd be up for a round or two sometime," he says in that deep voice of his before he turns to focus his attention on the game. I'm momentary confused about what he means, until I realize he's offering to train with me.

"Dad still Keeps better than half the league, including the one on his current roster. If the constant training didn't wear him down so much I don't think he'd be coaching. My brother Kenneth isn't bad to train with either. Thanks for the offer though," I reply as the toss is won by the Arrows and Robbie comes up empty handed. He'll need to crouch lower than that if he wants the momentum to spring off the ground with as much speed as the Arrow's Center Chase Corbin McLaggan. I make note of that in my book.

Finnegan and I enjoy the rest of the game in companionable silence. We don't speak, but a few times, we seem to automatically reach across the aisle and high five after a good play by Kenmare. It's fun having someone to cheer with after a particularly amazing play. And honestly, it ends up being an amazing game, even if Kenmare loses. If the Arrow's seeker hadn't beaten Weatherby to the snitch, the outcome would have been much different than the 320 to 550 point game. The chasing was back and forth, with plenty of steals, and some great turnovers created by the beaters from both teams. Both keepers had some amazing saves, including one by the Kenmare Keeper Nik VanHoyden that I thought would flip him off his broom.

"See you next week?" asks Finnegan with a grin as we pack up our things, disappointment about the loss hanging in the hot air.

I answer honestly, because I don't want him to suspect me to be at the next game. "I've already seen the Magpies in action last week. Nice game by the way. I'm heading to Wingtown so I can see them play the Catapults." Wingtown is playing us game four, and the Catapults are game five. I know it's going to be much more beneficial for me to try and scout their game, even though Robbie would probably like the support.

"That's probably the game I should go to, especially since I don't foresee the Magpies presenting much of a challenge to Kenmare. Mind if I join you?" he looks like he's afraid I'll tell him he can't come.

"It's a free country," I hear myself saying flirtatiously. As I turn and head out of the box, I can't help but chide myself internally. _WHAT AM I DOING?_ He's my teammate!

 **Thanks for reading and reviewing! I love hearing what you guys think. E.A.**


	7. Chapter 7

Our game in Tutshill goes relatively well. Mum and dad can't make it again, since we're playing the same time as United. I manage to get the toss again, which is no small feat, considering their center chase, Amy Hodges is known for her speed. Montague, Gregor, and I are in great form until about two hours into the game when one of their beaters drills me with a bludger from ten feet away, too close to dodge. Luckily it was in my right shoulder, but my game is off for the entire next hour until Jasper catches the snitch and we win it 510 to 260. Our lead would have been much more comfortable had I not been playing with a dislocated shoulder, but the team is still thrilled with the win. Falcons haven't won three in a row during the fall season in years. Sure, one of the wins was the Cannons, but it counts. In fact, the team invites me out to celebrate with them, but I beg off with the excuse that my shoulder is going to need some extra rest tonight.

The next day, I try not to notice that I spent longer than usual getting ready. I wear a blood red and white sundress and red lippy, showing my support for the Wanderers. They are one of Dad's favorite teams because they are Scottish, and they were founded by a family of seven brothers and sisters who started the team in 1422. He loves that the oldest Parkin daughter, Moira happened to marry a Wood. I like that she happened to play left wing chase. However, there aren't many teams that haven't had a Wood ancestor on them. I think being nuts for quidditch runs in the blood.

Once again, I arrive before Finnegan, and I wait an awful long time before he gets there. I try to ignore the fact that I realize I'll be disappointed if he doesn't show. When he finally makes it, he's wearing a black tee and cap again, so I'm not sure who he's supporting.

"Finnegan," I say, trying to sound casual.

"You look nice. Supporting the Wanderers I see," he says, hurrying to sit before the game starts. He really took his time getting here.

"Moira Parkin married a Wood when she retired in 1430. Dad jokes that all direct descendents have the quidditch crazy gene."

"That explains your brother, but not you," returns Finnegan with a laugh.

"I'm here aren't I?" I say gesturing to the field with my right arm, wincing when I remember how sore it is.

"You've got quite the bruise," says the overly observant Finnegan. "Looks like it probably hurts quite a bit."

"Just a little sore," I say, wishing I had brought a scarf or a cardigan to cover my shoulders. "Quidditch injury." I hope he doesn't pry into my explanation.

"I've got a great bruise paste. I'll pass it along through Wood on Monday," Finnegan says turning to the game.

"Thanks," I say in surprise, but he only nods in response as the game is starting, and we focus in on the game. Before joining the Falcons, I wouldn't have expected Finnegan to be so nice, but he's honestly just a good guy.

By the end of the game, I'm quite pleased I came. I've noticed that the keeper for Wingtown tends to practically ignore the right post in addition to being weak on that side. Montague, Gregor, and I can definitely capitalize on that. Additionally, their beaters have some pretty obvious signals that I think I'll be able to pass along to Duncan and Rolland. The Catapults Keeper seemed to be in top form, barely letting in eight goals, but if I had to try and score on him, I think that he has a hard time following the ball when the chasers use rapid passing maneuvers. That could just be the red kits that the Wanderers were wearing though. It's worth trying. Their left chase looks to have a really casual grip, I think I could steal from her in my sleep.

By the time I've looked up from my notes, Finnegan's already left. He didn't even say goodbye.

* * *

The bruise paste that Finnegan gives me works like a dream. He was really casual about the whole thing when he gave it to me after practice. I had completely forgotten he had offered it. "Hey, pass this along to your sister. She looks like she needed it when I saw her this weekend."

After using it, I honestly think he might have made it himself. It has a pretty distinctive smell, and a very herbal quality to it. The smell reminds me a little of him, and I think he must use it pretty regularly. I don't think I've ever recovered from a bludger to shoulder so quickly, and I've had more than my fair share. Before Graeme and Walter learned to control the bludger (we only play with one at home usually since Wallie's only eight and honestly not very good yet), I had more than enough bludger injuries. Not because either of them were good at aiming, but because Robbie and I usually had to round up the stupid ball. I'm an awful bludger wrangler.

The game against Wingtown goes amazingly. My scouting paid off, and Gregor manages to score twenty goals through that right hoop by himself. Apparently me _and_ Finnegan had both been telling him to focus his efforts on the right hoop this week, and Montague scored really well too. I ended up without many points, but quite a few assists to the right, and I had my fair share of steals. It helped that we dominated both bludgers completely since I taught Duncan and Rolland all of the signals that their beaters were using last game. We still thrashed them 390 to 270, even thought Jasper didn't catch the snitch. Jasper wasn't exactly happy, but coach was pleased with the win. He kept saying he couldn't get over our dominance of the bludgers, and I know Rolland and Duncan were pleased. They invited the whole team out for drinks, especially me, but I told them I needed to pass because I had to meet my sister for dinner. Mostly I just wanted a shower and to slip on my PJ's and eat crisps and Chinese takeout in my own body for the rest of the evening. Is that too much to ask? Plus the game between Kenmare and the Wasps is a morning game in Kenmare, so I don't particularly want a late night.

"Suuuure…. Your _sister_ ," taunted Rolland. The rest of the team laughed, but I can shrug them off, unlike Robbie probably would have. Now the whole team thinks I have a secret girlfriend; but I don't mind, because I can assure you I do not. Robbie might though… I swear I heard giggling coming from his room one morning after he'd been out with his team the night before. Honestly, I don't really want to know.

* * *

Heading to Kenmare at the crack of dawn isn't exactly my idea of the perfect Sunday morning. Whoever decided that this game should start at six am is my new least favorite person. Because of this, I've decided that my pajamas are acceptable game attire for this scouting mission. Which means I'm totally mortified when Finnegan shows up, and I'm wearing my fuzzy purple bunny slippers, green and gold snitch covered cotton pajama pants and a grey t-shirt that says WOODCHUCKER in purple writing courtesy of Uncle George.

"Finnegan!" I exclaim more in surprise than greeting when I realize I have company in the players box this morning. Who in their right mind comes to this match for a scouting session!? If Robbie wasn't playing, I can promise I wouldn't be here. I'd be scouting the Puddlemere Harpies game that starts at noon. Actually, I'll probably get dragged to that if this one's over by then. I haven't seen one of Dad and Davie's games all season, and I think mum is about ready to take me aside for a little talk about supporting the family. And also to see if there's something wrong with me.

"Good morning, I snuck us in some doughnuts," he says conspiratorially. "I see you've dressed appropriately." He gives me a wink, and I feel much better about being caught in this ridiculous outfit. The players box is always private, and you can't see in, so I wasn't expecting anyone except the staff working this back part of the stadium to see me. He sits right next to me, bringing the delicious aroma of doughnuts with him. He opens a box, revealing an assortment of pastries. Merlin, it's like he knows my soul.

"You're bloody amazing," I say without thought as I grab a cream filled chocolate covered long-john. I haven't had a good doughnut in ages, and this is just hitting the spot! "Mmm… best idea ever," I say around a mouthful of deliciousness.

"Have as many as you want," he laughs. He's grabbed what looks to be a jelly filled one and seems pretty pleased with himself.

"I will, thank you," I say before polishing off the rest of the doughnut. During the course of the game, I eat two more doughnuts, which in retrospect, maybe I shouldn't have allowed myself to be so piggish. Mum would have said it's unladylike. In my defense, Finnegan ate six, and there were still three leftover. Plus, the game lasted five hours, which is one of the longest games this season, and I was getting hungry again. Fiona finally managed to catch the snitch and put the Wasps out of their misery. They just haven't been the same since Coach Hardbow retired three seasons ago. They trailed by at least two hundred points the last three hours.

"Thanks for the doughnuts, and the bruise paste," I tell Finnegan as we pack up our notes. "I've never recovered from a bludger to the shoulder that quick."

"You're welcome," says Finnegan. He looks like he wants to ask me something, but thinks better of it and we say a quick goodbye. I've got less than an hour to change and make it to Puddlemere. Mum would absolutely die if I showed up to the Family box dressed like this.

Apparating home, I pull off a quick change before making it to the stadium just in time to see dad fly out the gate and do a fly by hi five to all of us kids with an extra kiss for me and mum before he settles in the coach's box with the manager and the owners. I can tell he's glad I made it. Davie looks pretty pleased too, so much that he blows me a kiss after a particularly nice goal. I know it's for me because my brothers always wiggle their pinkies after blowing me kisses and Davie started it. Apparently, when I was younger, I was worried that the kisses might not reach me unless they got a little more tailwind to help them along.

Puddlemere manages to pull off their first win of the season, but I think it's more due to the fact that the Harpies had to play a reserve chaser most of the second half after dad's beaters took out their center chase. Puddlemere's keeper Jared Allen honestly sucks. Management needs to trade him for someone else during the season break if they want to have half a chance at the playoffs.

* * *

The week 5 game against the Catapults is almost too easy for the Falcons, but the fact we're almost halfway through the season undefeated is practically unreal. It's unfortunate that most of the teams we've beaten have been losing consistently. If nothing else, we're going to be the best of the teams that don't make it past the first round of the playoff tournament.

I'm unreasonably disappointed when Finnegan doesn't show at the Kestrels game vs. the Pride. When he shows up nearly an hour into the game, my heart does a giddy little dance. The game ends up lasting eight hours while the seekers can't find snitch. Eventually, I offer to go get us something to eat and bring back some Chinese take-out from a place in Portree that Mum and Dad always take us to when we attend a game here. Like usual, we don't talk much, most of our attention focused on the game, but I suspect that's how both of us prefer our quidditch.

Robbie played really well, but the Pride are in top shape and they beat out Fiona for the snitch again. I know Robbie isn't going to be pleased about Kenmare being 3 and 2 with the Falcons undefeated almost halfway through the season.

"What do I owe you for the Chinese?" asks Finnegan as we pack our things away. I got a variety since I wasn't sure what Finnegan would like and couldn't decide on one thing for myself. Right now, I'm working on a spell so they'll all fit in my satchel. He's pulled out a dragon leather wallet.

"It's on me!" I insist. "I still owe you for the bruise cream and the doughnuts. Besides, I'm taking all the leftovers."

"Come on," he protests. I can tell he's uncomfortable accepting that I paid for the meal.

"Just say thank you," I say with a shake of my head. "Your money is no good."

"Fine, thank you," he says with a pout. I send him a smirk before vacating the booth.

 **Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Thanks for reading and reviewing! E.A.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Sorry for the few weeks off. I was out of town and had family visiting from out of the country and all those fun excuses! Anyways, here's the next chapter. I'll post again within the week! Enjoy!**

The next Wednesday starts like any other practice. It's crazy how I've adjusted to playing professional quidditch with five practices and a game every week. We ran drills, did some strength training, and in the afternoon we scrimmaged with the reserves for a few hours. After practice, when we're all heading back to the change rooms, Rolland and Duncan arguing jovially about who the better beater was of the Broadmoor brothers while Jasper and Gregor take turns poking each other. They'll probably end up wrestling in the locker rooms. I'm trying to speedwalk ahead of the group so I can get my pads off for a quick escape, and Montague and Finnegan are taking up the rear, murmuring under their breath about strategy. Montague might be the captain, but Finnegan seems to be a lot of the brain behind his leadership. Finnegan insists it's because he has the opportunity to watch from the posts during practice, but I think it's because he's brilliant as well. I still can't believe Puddlemere traded him away last year.

I beat everyone into the lockers, and true to my prediction, Jasper and Gregor are rolling on the floor wrestling almost as soon as they make it in the door. Montague snaps at them to cut it out, but Jasper is still chuckling as he tosses his broom carelessly in his locker.

I'm just unlacing my last shin guard when Finnegan starts talking to me, something about it's a pity that Puddlemere lost again last week. It's not totally uncommon for him to say something to me, I mean our lockers are right next to each other, but mostly I keep to myself in the locker room, and everyone respects that I'm not chatty. The less everyone else knows about me the better. Also, talking to Finnegan as Robbie gets weirder and weirder every week since I keep bumping into him as me.

"So is your sister single?" he suddenly asks, causing me to freeze, halfway bent to pick up my bag. Is Finnegan interested in me or something?

"What?!" I blurt out, turning to look directly at him, which is a mistake because his tanned, sweat covered chest is now directly in my line of vision, and I'm already burst out in bright red blushes.

"I mean, does she have a boyfriend or something?" he repeats the question slightly different. I can tell this is an odd conversation, and in my mind everyone is listening in. Glancing to Rolland who's behind Finnegan, I can see he has an ear trained on what's being said. Finnegan doesn't talk much, but when he does… it's usually worth hearing. This is not necessarily worth hearing, but I'm sure the team finds it juicy gossip.

"Why? Are you interested or something?" I snap, sounding a little too much like an overprotective brother.

"Hey man, just asking!" he says putting his hands up and stepping back before grabbing his towel and heading to the showers. I should have just said yes. On the inside I was sort of screaming, YES! YES! I'M SINGLE AND I THINK I PROBABLY HAVE A WEE BIT OF A CRUSH ON YOU!

"He's so got the hots for your sister!" laughs Jasper from behind me, causing me to turn around and glimpse way too much of Duncan's rear as he heads into the showers.

"He said he was just asking," I say with a shake of my head. Seriously, Hart needs to shut up. I'm trying to convince myself it was just casual curiosity so I don't get more worked up about this than I already am.

"If Finnegan bothered asking at all, he's interested. He's mentioned before he likes his ladies tall, and considering he's a giant himself, why wouldn't he? Plus, I hate to break it to you man, but your sister looks like a bleeding supermodel. She's so sexy, just thinking about her is making me hot! I might need a cold shower today!" laughs Rolland. I can't decide if I'm flattered at Rolland's assessment of my looks, (although how much of it is teasing to rile up the guy he thinks he's talking to?) or mortified that he _and_ Finnegan think I'm hot. So Finnegan might be interested, I'm not sure what to think about the whole thing. All I know, is I want to get out of here before someone notices how red I am, or I see one more of my teammates bum's. Duncan's was enough for today, thanks.

* * *

Saturday our game against the Wasps is amazing. One of my best games of the year, and Finnegan plays amazingly. I can tell he's really pumped up after the game. Considering he only let three goals in, I'm sure he has reason. After our brief huddle on the field in which coach dismisses us with a grin, clearly thrilled about the longest winning streak for the Falcon's in the past twenty years, we all head to the lockers.

I'm startled when a heavy arm falls across my shoulders, and I'm even more shocked when I look over to see a grinning Finnegan.

"Good game," I say, trying to play off the fact that he's usually not this chummy with me, or any of us on the team for that matter.

"Same to you, Wood. That reverse toward the end was brilliant," he says with a crooked grin. It's easy to forget he has these adorable dimples, he so seldom smiles.

"Thanks," I say, clearing my throat as we approach the open door to the lockers.

"So I was thinking maybe you could wait around a few minutes after the game," he says, this I guess somewhat explaining why he's become so chummy all of a sudden.

"What for?" I reply as I step into the locker room and head to my locker.

"If you'll wait just a few minutes for me to quick shower, I was thinking maybe I could head back to yours." He's already peeling off his clothes for that 'quick shower,' and I avert my eyes.

"What for? I didn't exactly invite you to dinner," I inquire, trying not to sound anything other than curious, but I'm worried we could possibly run into Robbie who had a game against Puddlemere that kicked off at the same time as our game. Who knows if it's over or not, who won, and if he may or may not be at the apartment yet.

"I was hoping to run into your sister. She and I have a tendency to bump into each other at Kestrel games, and since they were playing Puddlemere today, I was going to ask her if she wanted to maybe grab some dinner tonight or maybe go to the Pride vs. the Arrows game tomorrow instead."

"You do have a thing for me… my sister," I gasp in shock, turning to see he's already in nothing but a towel.

"Look, I know we're teammates, and you're her brother. But I really do have good intentions toward her. She just keeps popping up, and at first I tried to ignore the attraction, but from the moment she answered the door at your flat back in June… There's something about her, and I'll admit, I've never been good with girls, or comfortable around them for that matter. But… I don't feel like that with her. It's like I've known her forever, and we could just sit and be together, and it's not awkward. I know it doesn't make sense, and right now I feel like a moron, so I'll just go hop in the shower. If you're still here in ten minutes when I get done, I'll take that as an 'O.K. you can let my sister laugh you out of our apartment.'"

I'm somewhat in shock that Finnegan would actually be the straightforward with me. Well Robbie anyways. Looking around, I realize we were the only ones in the locker area when he said it, but he basically admitted that he fancies me. Well, the Olivia me. I'm not sure how long I sit on my bench with a stupid grin on my face before Rolland rushes back into the room in nothing but a towel and startles me back into the real world by rat tailing me with his wet towel.

"Asshat!" I snap as he laughs at the welt raising on my only bare arm. Taking off the rest of my pads, I toss them in my bag and ignore the rest of the guys that are slowly returning to the room. "Tell Finnegan I'll wait for him outside!" I say, hurrying out of the lockers to avoid getting an eyeful. Honestly, the whole modesty thing is not really something this team has heard of.

Seven minutes later, I'm still a stinking sweaty mess when the freshly showered Finnegan pops out of the locker room wearing blue jeans, his typical black t-shirt and his black baseball cap with his gear bag slung over his shoulder. "You waited!" he says with a grin. I give a shrug and hold out my arm for him to side-along. I managed to send off a patronus to my brother that would reach him only if he was at the house, so he better know not to be there. Spinning out, we land in my flat, the box of Lucky Charms from breakfast still on the kitchen table with our empty bowls.

"Lucky Charms fan?" smirks Finnegan with a raised eyebrow.

"Before every game," I say with a casual shrug. Everyone has a pregame ritual, and maybe that's Robbie's and mine.

"They are 'Magically Delicious'," laughs Finnegan, casually seating himself in my favorite spot on the couch. How he knows that' the most comfortable spot in our entire flat, is beyond me.

"Well, I'll go shower, and I'll let you know when she gets here. Sometimes she apparates right into her room, but she'll probably stay for the end of the Puddlemere Kestrels game." I turn on the wireless for him. "If you want anything to drink, there's some butterbeer in the fridge, glasses above the sink."

"Sounds like a plan, you still stink of quidditch," laughs Finnegan looking perfectly relaxed. However, I am anything but. The game is still on, and from the sounds of it Kenmare is destroying dad's team. I'm sure dad will be mad I didn't make it to their game again. Hurrying to the bathroom, I strip off my clothes and hop in the shower. If I can time this just right, I can be ready as me before Robbie gets back from cleaning up in the Kestrel's locker room. Who knows, maybe he will go out with his buddies after the game and I don't even need to worry about him showing up here. Washing my long hair, I hurry to detangle it, which is much more difficult after morphing it short. I even give my legs a quick shave, hoping that the extra time doesn't end up creating a problem for me later. Throwing on Robbie's robe, I wrap a towel around my long blonde hair and morph my face and body back into Robbie before stepping out of the bathroom.

"Kenmare just caught the snitch!" says Finnegan as I hurry down the hall to my room before closing the door. Great, that means I have probably 30 minutes tops before Robbie gets back, unless he's going out to celebrate with his team.

Morphing back into myself, the robe hem drags across the floor, much too long, as I hurry to my wardrobe and pick out something to wear. It's still pretty warm for the last week of September, so a pair of jean shorts and a Puddlemere Jersey with 'BELL' and Davie's number seem like a good choice. Plus, that will show off my newly shaven legs. A few waves of my wand, and my hair is nicely styled in some loose curls. Grabbing my makeup, I quickly swipe on some mascara, darken my brows, and touch up my lips. Looking at myself critically, I take the extra few minutes to brush on some blush and an attempt at a smoky eye. This is about as good as it's going to get, and honestly, I'm much more dressed up than I usually would be for one of dad and Davie's matches.

Spinning on the spot, I pop into the living room, startling Finnegan who seems to be examining a picture of Robbie and me from fourth year. He quickly sets the frame back on the side table, and stands, looking guilty.

"Hello, Finnegan," I say, allowing my voice to take on a somewhat puzzled tone.

"Hey," he says, sounding a little nervous to be honest. We stand staring at each other in a prolonged moment of awkward silence.

"Umm… I heard you played really well, beat the Wasps. You only let them score three goals?" I ask, breaking the silence.

"Oh, yeah, that… Fun game. I was actually here… ummm… where's your brother?"

"I… in his room?" I ask, knowing that technically he means me as Robbie, who has obviously not made an appearance.

"Maybe I should go see if he's doing okay?" Finnegan says, looking down the hall.

"Actually, I think I just heard him apparate out?" I say backing toward the hall to our rooms. "Robbie? You have a friend here?!"

"Coming sis!" calls a voice that I recognize, and internally I heave a sigh of relief. In my mind, I just pictured heading back to my room to 'get my brother', being forced to quick change clothes, and remove my makeup, and then having to come up with a plausible reason for my sister disappearing on me.

Robbie walks out of his room wearing a Gryffindor t-shirt and a pair of jeans, a wide grin on his face.

"Hiya Liv," he says, reaching to ruffle my hair as I bat his hand away. "You can see Finnegan's here," he says to me, the slight tone in his voice informing me that I'll have to help him cover for the fact he has no idea why Finnegan is here.

"We've met before," I say with a smile to Finnegan. "What exactly are you doing here? I wasn't expecting to see you this weekend, what with the Kestrels game at the same time as yours."

Finnegan is looking more uncomfortable by the second, the relaxed Finnegan of minutes ago disappearing faster than food at a Wood family dinner- I do have six brothers including Davie.

"Well, I thought I would stop by and see if maybe… you were interested in… umm… a post game dinner. We could grab some fish and chips somewhere, you could tell me how the Kestrels did today?"

Merlin, I have no idea how the Kestrels did today… I didn't go to the bloody game considering I had one of my own to play!

"I would um… love to… but… I have a family dinner, Wood thing you know…" I'm heartbroken to have to tell him no. I think it's official that I have a thing for this auburn haired Keeper. He looks a little crestfallen, and I am too. I hurriedly continue on, "Maybe we could make a game tomorrow?"

"Arrows vs. the Pride?" he asks, a relieved smile on his face.

"Pick me up at ten, and we can apparate over together," I suggest, unconsciously playing with the hem of my Puddlemere jersey.

"I'll look forward to it," he says. "Thanks for the butterbeer, Wood," he says nodding to Robbie, who has been standing here smirking the entire time. "See you tomorrow," he says to me, before heading to the door. "Just as a warning, I detest the Arrows," he says with a wink before leaving.

"Ohh-la-la, do I smell a little Falcon romance brewing?" laughs Robbie, elbowing me lightly a few seconds after the door shuts.

"Shut up!" I say in protest as he starts making kissing noises as if he's Walter's age. Which is eight, by the way.

"Finnegan, you can _Keep_ me warm in your muscled embrace any day!" he says in a falsetto tone before laughing.

"Shut up, Robert!" I snap grabbing a pillow off the couch and throwing it as his head with all the strength of a professional chaser. He falls to the sofa, one hand over his chest and another across his brow in a mock faint.

"Oh, Finnegan!" he sighs in a girly high pitched voice, before sitting up and looking at me. "Seriously, when did this happen? When did you, as yourself anyways, and him get so friendly?"

"We've been bumping into each other at some of your games. He's a Kestrels fan," I say, trying to sound casual. "We're friends."

"Well, you should probably keep it that way," says Robbie with a frown. "I don't like the idea of him with you."

"Why not?" I demand, putting my hands on my hips. There is nothing wrong with Finnegan.

"Well, one, he's not good enough for you, and two, don't you think it would be awkward when you broke up to have to play with him on his team every day?"

"You're such an asshat!" I snap before apparating to mum and dad's house for post-game dinner.

 **Thanks for reading and reviewing! Thanks to Mrs. Doubtfire for helping me with the above scene. Please keep an eye out for the next update later this week! Elaine A.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Your speedy update as promised ;) Enjoy!**

The next morning, I dress carefully for my somewhat date with Finnegan. I opt for my jean shorts with my Catriona McCormack vintage jersey. It's over fifty years old. Mum won it at an auction a few years back and gave it to me for Christmas. She played a mean left chaser in the sixties.

By the time that Finnegan knocks on the door to our flat, Robbie's been taking the mickey on me for over an hour while I got ready. I however, manage to surprise him with a body binding spell, just as I go to answer the door, so he's unable to harass Finnegan as well. Closing the door behind me, I greet Finnegan in the hall, and start out of the building before Robbie can fight off the spell.

"Hello!" I say happily, noting his typical black attire with nothing but the purple shoelaces to indicate his preference in teams for this match. He has his hands tucked into his khaki shorts, and he looks a little nervous, which in turn makes me a little nervous.

"Ready to go?" he asks, seemingly puzzled that I've barely opened the door before dragging him down the stairs.

"Don't want to be late!" I say. "I'm glad you can still stomach supporting the Pride despite their beating the Kestrels last week."

"Same to you, I almost can't believe you have a McCormack Jersey," he says.

"She was a left wing chase," I say with a shrug. "Mum got it at a charity auction."

"Is that your position?" asks Finnegan as we reach the alley where Robbie and I usually apparate from when we have guests. Our wards can be fairly particular.

"It's what I've always trained for, I'm the best left chase in the family," I say with some pride.

"If you're better than your brother, it's a shame you aren't playing professionally," says Finnegan. I can't tell if he's saying that because he believes me or because he's skeptical I'm better than Robbie.

"Well, Robbie and I haven't played against each other in a while… He's improved a lot since going pro, I'm sure," I say, trying to play off the whole thing.

"We should play sometime. I knew from the moment I saw you, you would be excellent at quidditch," says Finnegan offering his arm for apparition.

"You have no idea," I murmur just before he spins us off to the Arrow's stadium.

The Arrow's stadium, with its awful climate control, ends up being miserable with the unseasonable early October heat. Finnegan and I are, as usual, the only two in the player's observation box, but I wish I had a fan, or an ice cream, or could take off my bloody shirt. By the end of the two hours when the Arrows seeker catches the snitch, my hair has gone totally flat (I curled it this morning), and I'm pretty sure my jersey has pit stains. If Finnegan wasn't sweating twice as much, I would have been totally and completely mortified.

"I wish this place had decent climate control," he wipes his brow in a move I recognize from practice.

"I hate Arrow's stadium," I agree. "They couldn't give me a good enough offer to attend all their games. Thank Merlin Robbie didn't sign with them!"

"Thanks for joining me for the game today," I say as we walk to an apparition point.

"Thanks for the company," replies Finngan. "I was wondering if you would want to join the team out next week. Obviously, we would like Wood, I mean Robert, to come as well. But… maybe he could bring you along. We don't play the Bats until Sunday afternoon, and we usually try to go out Friday night before Sunday games. We usually go to the Spicy Cauldron Club, right off of Diagon Alley."

"I'll mention it to Robbie this week," I say. Even though we've spent most the entire afternoon together, this is the most he's really said all day in one go. He must have been working up the words for a while. "Maybe you could say something as well."

"Hope to see you there," says Finnegan awkwardly.

"Bye Finnegan," I say before spinning on me heel out of site to land in the flat.

* * *

"Do you think I'm sexy?" I ask my brother, invading his room a few days later.

"What? Don't you think it would be a little… incestuous… if I did?" he says looking a little startled at my invasion of his room.

"I mean in an objective way?" I persist.

"Umm…. Is this supposed to be about the dress you're wearing? Cause… it's a little short…" he says scratching his head and putting away his playbook. The purple satin and black lace dress hits me mid thigh… it's not _really_ on the short side…

"No, it has nothing to do with the dress. I'm just asking, if you think the male half of this species generally finds me attractive on a daily basis!" I'm a little put out that he won't answer the bloody question.

"Umm… I mean… yeah?" he answers, making it sound like a question.

"You're no help at all!" I whine, unable to resist stamping my foot a little. This seems to draw his attention to my shoes, a pair of sparkly black stilettos I got myself with my most recent paycheck. There was a nice little bonus for all the goals I scored last weekend.

"Are you going out? Like on a date?" he suddenly asks. "Because, that… no… you are not leaving this apartment looking like that."

"I'm going out with Char. I've realized that all this focus on quidditch has made me forget what it feels like to be a lady," I announce, my tone killing any protest he might put up about my outfit or going out. Tonight is Friday, and neither of us have games until Sunday. As Finnegan promised, the guys invited me along to go out to the bars tonight, but I said I had plans with my sister and her friend. Which is why I'm orchestrating this little get together. I didn't want to seem totally uncool when Rolland and Duncan were sniggering about me always staying in and never joining the team for drinks after practice or games.

"You didn't say Charlotte was going to be coming over!" exclaims Robbie, jumping off the bed. "I'll be ready in five if you can wait for me. I haven't been out in an age!" Which isn't true, because he went out last Saturday after his win to celebrate with the rest of the Kestrels, but I won't bring that up.

"Merlin, Livvie!" exclaims Char when she arrives fifteen minutes later. "You look amazing! No one's even going to notice me standing next to you when you look like that!"

"I'm looking at you," asserts Robbie with a cheeky nod and a smile.

"Eww… Stop talking to me!" she says in fake disgust. "Girls with asses like mine, do not talk to boys with faces like yours. Besides, she's your sister, you don't count."

"That's what I tried to tell her!" laughs Robbie. "You, Lottie, look lovely enough to eat."

"Put a sock in it Wood," snorts Char. "I think a trip to The Spicy Cauldron Club is order. I for one would like to run into some good looking quidditch players, and if you're with us, we have a decent chance of getting in."

"I see how it is… I'm just your ticket to the high life," quips Robbie with a fake pout.

"That's right, darling," laughs Char before apparating to Diagon Alley.

"The team invited both of us out tonight," I inform Robbie, who only looks mildly surprised. Winking at my brother, I too spin on my heel and just hope his Gryffindor pride isn't too wounded to follow.

Within seconds, Robbie's apparated into the alley. The line for the club is already long, but he pulls us so that there's one of us is on each arm before walking to the doorman. "Mr. Wood," says the barman waving us through. I'm wondering if this man studies pictures of famous people so he knows who to let in, and who to turn away. Maybe he legit knows Robbie. "Your teammates are already inside."

There's a nice beat playing, and plenty of people dancing on the floor in the center of the large room. I've never been, so I glance around to see several bars lining the walls as well as staircases that lead to a second floor that overlooks the dance floor.

"You girls find a table and I'll grab some drinks," says Robbie leaving Char and I to fend for ourselves.

"We'll be upstairs!" calls Char, taking my hand and dragging me through the crowds to the upper level. She's obviously been here before.

I'm trying to keep up, wearing these ridiculously high heels, but I only manage to stumble into a wizard who spills his drink all over himself, and I have to spend a good minute apologizing. Turning back around, I find she's deserted me. Luckily, I'm tall enough to see over most of the crowd, so spotting her shouldn't be too terribly difficult. In fact, in these heels, I'm about six foot, making me the most ridiculously tall girl here.

As a short little wizard nearby gives me a once over, a tiny part of my wishes maybe I had chosen a different outfit… or at least different shoes. Maybe I should have morphed my height a little shorter for the evening. Scanning the upper floor again, I pivot to see if maybe Charlotte went the opposite way.

Turning, I find my view blocked by a very broad set of shoulders. Looking up, I meet a pair of very blue eyes.

"I thought that was you," comes the lilting brogue of Finnegan. His mouth cocks into a half smile, which is more attractive than I expected.

"Hullo, Finnegan," I say with a smile. "I'm looking for my friend, Charlotte. Short little brunette about yeah tall, wearing a red dress." I vaguely indicate her height with my hand.

"I think she already found our table," he answers stepping back and giving me a view of a table full of my teammates. My brother's just arriving at the table with three drinks balanced in his oversized hands. "Wood's found us as well."

I nearly startle out of my skin as Finnegan's giant hand takes mine and he turns to lead me to the table. Looking down at our joined hands, I can't help but notice how little my hand looks in his. He's probably one of the only guys in the entire club that dwarfs me in heels by more than five inches.

"Look who I found!" announces Finnegan as we reach the table. Half the team cheers for me, and I feel myself turning as red as Charlotte's dress.

"Little Wood!" laughs Duncan holding out a hand for me to shake. I take it gingerly, and he makes a show of kissing it. I can't help but laugh at this atypical behavior. Luckily, Robbie doesn't seem to have given any hint that he's not their real teammate. He's already settled in next to Jasper and ribbing him about something that must have happened before I got to the table.

"Hey, hey, she's hardly 'little'," interjects Robbie, knowing that my height is a sore spot and unable to resist the jab. He winks at me to soften the blow, so I roll my eyes and hold my hand out to accept the drink he brought me.

"Who wants to budge over, so I can fit?" I ask the nearly full booth, seeing that Finnegan took the only empty space while I was grabbing my drink. Char is already sitting on Rolland's lap, likely to irritate Robbie more than anything else. Being a near-giantess, it's much more awkward to stand and tower over the table.

No one makes a move to squeeze me into the large booth, even though I'm fairly certain there's plenty of room between Montague and Bork. I turn to Robbie, hoping he'll take a hint and either go grab me a chair or give up his seat like a gentleman.

I let out an involuntary, undignified squeak as a long tanned arm reaches around my waist and pulls me into a warm lap. I don't have to look back to know I'm sitting in Finnegan's lap. Robbie's looking at me like I've grown an extra head, and I know I'm probably red as a tomato.

"There, all settled," says Finnegan, signaling the conversation to restart. Duncan and Bork are scoping out the nearby women. I have a feeling they'll end up trying to chat up the pair of blondes sitting at a table across the way. The pair of blondes keeps shooting looks at our table, so I'd say the odds are in the boys' favor. Robbie resumes his ribbing this time turning on Montague, and Char seems to have been introduced to his young wife, Adella, who I have heard about but never met.

"Don't you like your drink?" asks Finnegan's deep voice, close to my ear, causing me to shiver.

I take another sip and consider the flavors. Yum, my brother has obviously chosen well. "I'm just taking it all in," I say shifting slightly on his lap so I can look up at him. This close, it's even more obvious how handsome he is.

"You know, we still haven't been properly introduced," he says, a smile in his voice. He takes a drink from his glass of firewhiskey without even a wince. I wonder if it's the drink that's caused the fairly stoic and silent Keeper to act this way. He's being much more… something… than usual.

"Olivia Wood," I say with a laugh at how ridiculous it is to introduce yourself to someone you've met on several occasions… we even went on a sort of date last weekend… and if we count the number of times I was impersonating Robbie… well it's just funny. "You can call me Livvie," I add.

"Murphy Finnegan," he says setting down his drink and taking my hand for a kiss. The fact that he does it so deliberately and keeps his icy blue eyes on mine the entire time makes it much more intense than when Duncan did it as a joke five minutes ago. "You can call me Murphy if you like."

I feel my eyebrows raise. No one on the team calls him anything except Finnegan, and I'd sort of forgotten it wasn't his first name. The invitation to call him something besides Finnegan just seems weird. "Okay… Murphy," say, trying the word out. It sounds weird and wrong coming out of my mouth.

"So who wants to dance?!" Jasper is asking the whole table. My moment with Finnegan passing.

Suddenly everyone is rushing to get out of the booth, forcing Finnegan to lift me off his lap so we can stand and let everyone else out.

Char has somehow wrapped herself around Robbie, and they're heading down to the dance floor with Montague and his wife while Duncan and Gregor are making their move on the set of blondes across the way. Jasper has latched onto a random redhead, and Rolland seems to have met up with a friend he's familiar enough to snog on site.

"Wanna dance, Livvie?" Finnegan breathes in my ear, causing another one of those delicious little shivers.

"I feel like I just got here," I say sitting back down in our now deserted booth. "Let me finish this drink, and then I'll be ready to brave the dance floor."

"Well, I'd recommend you hurry, unless you want to sit with Rolland and Monique very long," suggests Finnegan, his thigh brushing mine as he sits back down, his long limbs taking up more of the booth than I thought possible. Looking up, I realize he's talking about Rolland's new arm candy, who he's leading back to the booth by the lips.

"Are they dating?" I ask, feeling like I should know if Rolland had a girlfriend. I also feel like I should know the girl.

"No, but they run into each other here about every other week, maybe more. One thing leads to another, and…" Finnegan trails off as the two settle into the booth across from us, still kissing like there's no tomorrow. She still looks incredibly familiar. I'm trying to place her when Finnegan provides me with the answer. "Grace Gregorivich, the harpy left beat. They both started with the Wasps before they got transferred out for the Zilich twins three years ago. I'm not sure exactly what their history is… but I've never seen either of them get very friendly with anyone else."

Finnegan has volunteered more to me tonight than I think I've heard him say all season. This man is an absolute wealth of information, and the implication that he kept his mouth shut because he's had a few too many knocks with a bludger is totally off. I wonder for a second at how little I know about Finnegan, despite our frequent meet ups, whereas most of my other teammates are rather chatty.

Finishing my drink quickly, I let Finnegan lead me downstairs to the dance floor where my brother and everyone else is lost in the crowd and the dark. Finnegan takes the lead with surprising assurance, pulling me into his chest and leading me into an intimate, slow rumba, keeping me close.

I've never been the sort of girl who stands eye level with anyone's mouth, but Murphy Finnegan has a very lovely set of lips. Usually I'm on eye level with people or looking down on them, but Murphy's height makes me feel small in his arms.

I'm not sure exactly how long we dance, but I know we switch tempo several times, a couple of swing dances, a slow waltz, and a few fast paced salsa songs. There are still people who choose not to follow the songs, but since most of us took note during the dance classes at Hogwarts, it's a pretty seamless transition between styles. We've just finished a fast paced polka, and we're both out of breath from laughing at the couple near us who did the most humorous polka I've ever seen, which involved losing three of their four shoes. I let Murphy lead me off the floor, and he tucks me into a small alcove, before popping off to get us drinks. I wouldn't have expected to have so much fun with Murphy Finnegan.

Before I know it, he's back with another of those pink drinks that Robbie got me the first time and a firewhiskey for himself. We manage to tuck ourselves into the small alcove off the dance floor, and sip our drinks slowly, quietly exchanging thoughts on the couples across the floor.

"That couple, over there has probably been married seven years, but tonight her mum's babysitting all four of their kids. It explains both the small dirty handprint on her shoulder, and the fact they can't seem to keep their hands off each other," he whispers, pointing out a couple across the room. I giggle, but am secretly impressed that he noticed that small dirty handprint on the woman's shoulder. He's a keen observer, and his observations are quite amusing when he chooses to share them.

"That couple over there," I point out a couple sitting at a table across the room. "Maybe they were here on a blind double date, but their dates decided that they would rather be with each other. Now those two are stuck for the night with the rejected half of the other date. They're pouting now, but in five minutes they'll start talking and realize they were the only two in the entire class that even liked ancient runes. They'll be that last couple in ten years." It's quite fun making up stories about everyone else.

"Good one," laughs Finnegan.

"What do you think that they would say about us?" I ask, looking up at him, trying not to stare at his mouth as he takes another drink from his firewhiskey.

"I think they would say that we've met a few times. Maybe I'm a friend of a friend, or a coworker, but you didn't think much of me at all until tonight. On the other hand, you've probably consumed my thoughts, and I've been thinking up ways to get you to notice me for a while. Maybe I'm going to kiss you," he says quietly in my ear, the arm that's wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer as he leans against the wall of the alcove.

"Livvie!" a loud voice shrieks in my ear, just as he's starting to lower his head toward mine, startling us both into turning to face Char, Robbie, and Duncan. "We're going to finish the night at the Leaky. We can floo home from there and I want some chips!"

I feel my heart plummeting as she pulls my hand and I'm forced to stumble after her and away from what might have been an amazing kiss. I'm sure that Finnegan was going to kiss me. Looking over my shoulder, I try and communicate my disappointment with my eyes and invite him along to the Leaky.

Upon arriving at the Leaky, Char requires me to accompany her to the loo, which means she wants to chat without the boys.

"You totally have a thing for Finnegan!" she accuses me the minute we're alone in the loo.

"No I don't!" I protest. The last thing I need is drunk Char making a big deal about this… thing with Finnegan.

"Yes you do!" she insists before reapplying her lippy in the mirror.

"Stop being ridiculous!" I tell her, hoping that my protests aren't as weak as they feel.

"So you don't like six foot five, 230 pound, keepers with lazer rocket arms, ice blue eyes, and a killer smile?" she asks with a smirk.

"Merlin!- could we not talk about this right here?" I finally concede.

"Do you or don't you!?" she demands, stomping her foot for effect, which is slightly lost since she just looks like a spoilt child when she does that.

"Of course I have a bloody thing for him!" I confess.

"Excellent!" she crows triumphantly. "You're going to be adorable together!"

The five of us end up crammed into a booth at the Leaky. I am sharing a basket of chips with Char, but I can't help think that a kiss from Finnegan would have been more satisfying. He sits and laughs along with Robbie and Duncan's jokes, but he's retreated into a quieter form of himself. Char is babbling on about who she saw and what they were wearing, but I'm frankly ready to go home and get some shuteye before attending the Puddlemere game tomorrow.

"I'm going to head home," I finally announce at two fifteen. I smooth my dark purple and lace dress, and try not to trip in my heels as I get up from the table.

"Boo!" laughs Char, who is once again hanging on Robbie, who looks like he died and went straight to heaven. We make eye contact, and I can tell he's going to stay to make sure Char gets home okay. If he doesn't end up accompanying her…. I don't want to think about how much of our conversation in the loo she's going to remember tomorrow.

"I'd better catch a floo myself," says Finnegan hopping up quickly. We're going to be in plain sight our whole way to the floo, but at least we'll get a chance at a semi-private goodbye.

"You looked gorgeous tonight, Livvie," he says quietly, causing me to smile.

"Thanks, I had a great time," I say, brushing off the compliment and trying not to look too puffed up about it.

"I didn't see you last week at our game," he says, changing topic rather quickly.

"I saw every save," I say, hoping he realizes he must have overlooked me in the crowd.

"Maybe I'll see you Sunday? You could stop by the locker room after the game? I'm sure you have access to the back areas of the stadium as Wood's sister. Maybe we could go for dinner to celebrate?" He seems a little shy to be asking, but I can tell he's genuine about wanting to see me after the game. Honestly, I would love to go, but how am I supposed to get home, shower, and manage to get ready for a date after the game, when he could be in and out of the changing rooms within fifteen minutes.

"Umm… mum and dad will probably want me to watch my siblings so they can take Robbie out by themselves this week. Maybe we could do dinner a little more like two hours post game?" I suggest.

"Great, I'll pick you up at your place then?" He looks relieved that I've said yes.

"Yup, goodnight Finnegan," I say stepping into the fireplace with a hand full of floo powder. Tossing it in the fire I shout my destination before the Leaky, and Finnegan flash out of sight.

* * *

"You and Finnegan sure seemed friendly last night," my brother tells me speculatively over our morning cereal the next morning.

"Mind your own potion," I snap, shooting him a look saying to drop it.

"I'm just saying… you looked mighty cozy…"

"And I'm just saying mind your own business unless you'd like to have Char come out of your room and join us for breakfast this morning!" I smirk with satisfaction as that effectively shuts him up. We finish our cereal in silence, which is fine with me considering I didn't get much sleep last night.

"Oh, and next time, use a silencing spell," I add as I head back into my bedroom to get ready for the Puddlemere game, which thankfully doesn't start until noon today. I'm going to try and get some groceries… and maybe some earplugs.

 **thanks as always for reading and reviewing. Hope you liked it.**


	10. Chapter 10

**ENJOY! PLEASE REVIEW!**

The playing conditions for our game against the Bats are terrible. Wind and rain, and thunder, which makes it hard to hear, hard to see, and hard to hold onto the ball. Six hours into play, I'm worried no one is ever going to catch the snitch, but finally, I hear the crowd celebrating enough to realize it's been caught. Touching down on the field, I meet up with the other players, to be informed that we have won and Hart caught the snitch. We probably would have won anyways, had he not caught the snitch, we were so far ahead. Finnegan played magnificently, letting in only six goals the entire game. I'm not sure how, but it was amazing.

Trudging into the guest locker room at the Balleycastle stadium, I try to walk quickly as to not let my boots sink into the mud of the pitch. Every part of me is wet and cold. How I love the second half of the season already. Whoever decided that quidditch was an all weather sport, is officially on my shit list. Somehow, I suspect it was a man.

If I've ever wished I could change in the locker room, today is the day. This game was longer, wetter, and colder than any practice we've ever had. Pulling my pads off, I spell each one clean and dry before putting them in my bag. I also take the extra time to wipe off my broom and clean my shoes, replacing them with a pair of trainers.

"You're seriously going home that muddy, Wood?" asks a nearly naked Montague. "My wife would kill me if I showed up in our home with that much dirt on me."

"I'll appartate right into the shower," I say with a roll of my eyes. I actually will now that I think about it. Mmmm… a warm shower, and then my cuddly pajamas…

"Tell your sister I will pick her up at seven," says Finnegan, startling me out of my fantasy about my fuzzy purple slippers. It's not that I forgot our date, it's just this game was draining. I got hit with three bloody bludgers… luckily none of them that badly… but still.

"Yup," I say, ignoring the stares from my teammates, who are sure to start badgering Finnegan about what's going on as soon as I leave. I would really rather not hear what they have to say about our date. But even as I leave Ballycastle, I start planning what I'll wear, and I'm getting a little excited about the date I've managed to push out of my mind until after the game.

* * *

Almost two hours later, I've finally gotten ready for my date. Once again, Robbie has managed to rib me almost the entire time since I got out of the shower. His game was brief, and he already told mum and dad he wanted to rest after such a tough game. Mostly, he wanted to bother me while I curled my hair and did my makeup and chose my outfit, a belted teal skater dress with leggings and boots. I only tried on four outfits, but he laughed the entire time and was no help whatsoever. He thinks my 'little romance with Finnegan' is hilarious.

When Finnegan finally knocks on the door, I hurry to it and squeeze into the hallway before Robbie can ruin things.

"Hullo Finnegan," I say in what I hope he recognizes as my customary greeting. He looks amazing in a blue t-shirt dressed up with a black sport coat and trousers.

"Olivia," he says, his Irish accent wrapping around my full name for the first time. "I brought you flowers," he says holding out a bouquet of purple orchids, the most gorgeous display of color and beauty I've seen in a while.

"Thank you!" I exclaim, smelling the beautiful flowers. "Purple is my favorite color!"

"Glad you like them," he says with his shy smile.

"I'll just put them on water, wait here," I say shutting the door in face. I hope he forgives this rudeness, but Robbie is just being insufferable.

"Back already?" he taunts from the sofa, where he's already curled up with a quidditch magazine.

"He brought me flowers," I say with an air of distain. "He is a gentleman, unlike a certain brother of mine."

"Kenneth always was a prat," jokes Robbie, causing me to roll my eyes as I quickly arrange the flowers in a vase and hurry back to the door.

"Don't wait up for me!" I say with a smirk at Robbie before heading back to the hall to find a worried looking Finnegan.

"Everything alright?" he asks as I quickly shut the door on any reply that Robbie could make.

"Robbie's being a prat," I say with a roll of my eyes. "He's been a rather large pain since Saturday morning."

"Should I expect some ragging at practice? An over-protective brother routine?" asks Finnegan as we leave the building.

"I doubt it. Robbie seems to be saving it all for me," I tell him. "If he gives you any problems, just let me know. I have things I can hold over his head."

"I'm sure," laughs Finnegan.

"So where are we going?" I ask as we near the apparation point in the Alley behind our flat.

"You'll find out," Finnegan says in his mysterious way, taking my arm with a smile. I shake my head, but enjoy the warmth of his arm for the second before we spin into nothingness.

Landing, we arrive in front of a brightly lit restaurant, in what appears to be a muggle area. The accents of passersby, who seem not to have noticed us popping out of nowhere, tip me off that we are likely in Ireland.

"I hope you like Irish fare," he says, leading me to the door.

"My mother happens to be a Bell," I respond in Gaelic, the native language of Ireland, one I learned from my mum and her Aunt back before Hogwarts. Auntie did a lot of our homeschooling, and she taught us in the Irish tongue. When Finnegan stares at me blankly, I quickly translate, adding that "My mum is Irish."

"Gaelic is my first language," Finnegan finally responds, this time speaking in Gaelic. "Mum and dad spoke it at home. It's probably why I feel so uncomfortable speaking at length in English."

"Interesting," I say as we step into the restaurant. "Well maybe we'll just have to continue the evening like true Irish."

The rest of the evening is amazing. First of all, Finnegan seems to really open up, discussing more than quidditch. I do most of the talking, as usual, but he offers his insights a bit, and he answers my many questions which keeps the conversation going.

We also manage to chat about Hogwarts, which is interesting. He doesn't really remember me, which isn't all that surprising considering my fifth year he was busy with his sixth year project, and my sixth year was his seventh, and I was busy with the project.

I remember him simply because he was a marauder with Potter, Black, and Lupin and a Gryffindor quidditch star. How he ever became friends with those three outgoing loudmouths doesn't make sense at first, but he does have a creative mind a good sense of humor. Plus, being the quiet one in that group probably made his life easier. He certainly got the least detentions. Apparently, he's still good friends with the other three, and all three are married and starting families.

"So do you feel left out?" I ask in reference to his friends settling down.

"Those three have always been better with girls than I ever was, so I'm not exactly surprised that they've settle down. I was always too wrapped up in quidditch to chase after girls like Orion and James, and Teddy's been in love with Vic, since well… forever."

"What about the kids though?" I ask, pressing him with questions, happy to be getting answers out of the quiet man, even though I do feel like if it isn't about quidditch he barely volunteers information.

"I'm not ready for kids yet with my career just starting out, and honestly, I would have to find a woman willing to put up with my career first."

"I'm sure we could find you a groupie," I say with a smirk before looking around the room.

"That's exactly the kind of girl I'm not looking for!" he says. "Fame is a dangerous thing."

"You're telling me," I laugh, thinking of my parents and many of their friends.

"I'm looking for a girl who's down to earth and understands me. Not someone who's looking for a ticket to the quidditch end of season awards where we can drink champagne and eat caviar."

"Don't knock the champagne at the end of season parties," I say with a grin. "First time Robbie and I managed to sneak an alcoholic drink was at an end of season party a few years back. Champagne always brings back pleasant memories, especially the French stuff. Mum was so furious when she found out how much we got our hands on. Davie thought it was hilarious, though."

"I wouldn't have pinned the Wood twins for mischief makers," laughs Finnegan.

"You have absolutely no idea," I say with a seriousness that he can't quite understand. I managed to obtain the champagne by impersonating various dates of the players when they went to the loo. The only awkward part was when one of them tried to fondle my bum as I was leaving the bar. Robbie thought it was hilarious, but it wasn't all that amusing for me to have one of my dad's players thinking I was his slaggy girlfriend. I had to fend the player off with the excuse that I was going to the bathroom, and luckily when the real girlfriend returned from the bathroom, she was more than happy to be fondled and mauled by the stupid beater.

By the time we've finished our meals, the restaurant has begun to clear out, and I'm guessing it's time to leave. Finnegan takes care of our check with muggle money, before taking my hand and leading me back outside. It's not exactly balmy out, but it isn't raining like it was at our game in Ballycastle.

Finnegan must have felt me shiver, because he's draped his blazer over my shoulders and wraps an arm around my waist. His coat is warm, and smells like him, a slightly herbal scent mixed with cinnamon and broom polish. His warm solid arm around me and his side pressed into mine makes me feel small and delicate, even though I know it's more of an illusion.

"Want some hot chocolate?" he asks, stopping us outside a pub with the sound of music coming from inside.

"Does it come with some Irish cream?" I ask with a grin.

"For you, anything you want, Livvie," he says leading me inside the warm pub. It's crowded and half of the chairs seem to be gone to make room for dancing. After we grab our drinks from the bar, he manages to find a single seat for us, in a small alcove near the back of the room where the music is quietest. He pulls me into his lap, and holds up his whiskey for a toast.

Clinking my mug of chocolate and Irish Cream to his glass, I smile. The dark pub is warm, and his arm around me, holding me in his lap, feels strong.

"Want to dance, Livvie?" he asks after we have sat and enjoyed the music and our drinks for a while. Looking down, I realize I've finished my warm drink. I nod, and he tips back the rest of his tumbler.

Setting our empty drinks on a nearby ledge, we join the couples, reeling around the room. Laughing I try to keep up with Finnegan through the entirety of the fast paced Irish song. The next few songs are thoroughly enjoyable, but with our long legs, and speed, we have more than a few problems, running into others on the dance floor and outpacing the rest of the dancers. Deciding we have garnered enough dirty looks, we return to the sidelines after only a few songs.

"I think this is the best time that I've had in a while," I say, catching my breath, allowing him to pull me against him as he sits back down in our seat that we saved with his blazer, my bag, and a discrete notice me not charm.

"Glad you agree," he says, his deep voice rumbling in his chest which is pressed to mine, the vibrations going through me like a delicious shiver. His blue eyes twinkle in the dim light of the pub, and his auburn hair is deliciously ruffled from the wind outside and our wild dancing. I feel flushed and giddy. Licking my lips, I can't help but notice how close his are.

"I think you should kiss me," I say boldly, the Gryffindor in me coming out suddenly. Either that or the Irish Cream.

"Glad you agree," he murmurs before lowering his lips to mine in a toe curling kiss. As far as kisses go, let us just agree that Murphy Finnegan is better at kissing than keeping. And that's saying something. I allow my hands to run through his hair, enjoying the delicious shivers as he trails his hand along my side before up my back to my nape where his fingers run a fiery trail which he follows with those tempting lips, making me want to moan.

"Fin!" I gasp as his teeth nip at a particularly sensitive spot on my neck. He's much too good at this, I'm in trouble. His lips return to mine, making me wish we weren't somewhere quite so public. Remembering we are in fact in public, gives me the strength to finally pull away, blushing. Looking over, I see a group of young men are clearly staring at us, and I'm a little embarrassed.

"Merlin," whispers Finnegan with somewhat wide eyes, and I'm pretty sure the kiss affected him as much as it did me.

"Maybe we should head back," I say. "You have practice tomorrow, and it's after midnight."

"Not until noon, but you're right. We had better be getting back," he says grabbing our things, and once more draping his coat around me. We leave, and apparate out via a nearby alley. Finnegan walks me up to my flat, my hand comfortably in his much larger and warmer one.

"I had a really excellent time tonight," I say, making sure he knows how much I enjoyed the evening.

"Me too," he says with that small crooked smile, bringing out those dimples, I adore.

"Thank you for dinner, and the flowers," I say, not wanting to go inside without another goodnight kiss.

"Of course," he says, putting his hands against the wall and allowing me to lean against the wall between them. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. I was glad you could join me." He's slowly leaning in, his lips hovering so close to mine, I finally reach up and pull him in, sighing with contentment as he presses his body up to mine, closing the gap and pushing me up against the wall. Not that I have much experience in the kissing department, with only Bertram Roberts, the Ravenclaw, and Harry Higgins the Hufflepuff to compare, but Finnegan is definitely amazing. I'm not sure how he's doing that with his teeth, but, _Merlin_. Allowing my hands to run through his hair, I'm totally lost in the kiss, moaning as his lips trail along my neck and down to my collarbone.

"Excuse me, but don't you have practice in the morning?" comes a voice from my right, causing me to snap my head back into the wall, most painfully, and Finnegan to startle, pulling his wand faster than I ever could.

"Wood," he says, looking relieved before he remembers that Robert is my brother.

"Goodnight Finnegan. Livvie, it's very late. I'm sure you're tired," says Robbie, his voice dark and serious. Nothing like the jibes and laughter from before our date. I don't think he thought we were serious. In fact, right now he looks somewhere between livid, mortified, and fearful.

"Goodnight Fin," I say abbreviating his name with a short kiss before slipping out from between him and the wall.

"Goodnight Liv," I hear him say before Robbie snaps the door shut in his face.

"Really Robbie?" I say, turning to face my brother, feeling a little irritated he interrupted such a magnificent snog.

"You'll thank me later! Now get to bed. You have practice tomorrow, and so does he for that matter. And me!"

"You didn't have to stay up!" I protest as he pushes me toward my room.

"Like I could have slept through you moaning in the hall outside our flat!" jokes Robbie, a light tone coming back into his voice.

"Shut up!" I snap back. I still resent he broke up our snog. Merlin, that Finnegan's good at more than quidditch.

 **i just think they are so cute together! Anyways... thanks for reading. I really appreciate reviews and we are getting to the point where I dont have much more prewritten and am needing to write. So inspire me! XX El** **aine A.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Hi! Been a while since I updated, I know. I'm still planning to finish, this one. I have a couple more chapters written so speedy updates for a while, then likely the usual lull. You know what to do to keep me posting! Thanks for reading and reviewing!**

The next morning, I can't help but blush when Finnegan walks into the locker room. My mind immediately goes to our kiss, and as he walks to his locker, I catch a whiff of his herbs and cinnamon scent.

"Someone's got a stupid grin on his face!" ribs Rolland.

"Oooohhh, so the date went well!" cackles Hart, waggling his eyebrows at Finnegan, who is surprisingly sporting a blush and a dimpled grin.

"Shut up, ya faggots," he says, his Irish accent coming out stronger than usual.

"So the date went well?" asks Montague, slapping him on the back. Apparently the team found out what was going to happen after I left yesterday. I've seen them rag on Doyle and Bork about their girlfriends before, but they all seem pretty excited to be able to rag on Finnegan for once. He's redder than I would have thought, which is adorable.

"There's something about her," he says with a shrug.

"Finnegin's in LURV!" crows Rolland before making kissy noises. I'm fairly confident that all men are overgrown eight year olds.

They're all taunting him, and I wonder if I should put an end to it, being his date's brother.

"So do those long legs feel as good wrapped around you as they look like they would?" asks Rolland somewhat crudely, making a rude gesture. I can feel my ears burning at the crude implication, and I can't imagine having to see these people as my true self.

That's when Finnegan puts an end to it, slamming Rolland up against the wall, lifting the overgrown beater off the ground like a child. He's across the room quicker than I can follow, fisting Rolland's jersey in his hand. Finnegan's eyes have gone ice cold, and he has that look on his face that he usually reserves for games. The rest of the team is holding their breath, waiting to see what the characteristically quiet man is going to do.

"You're walking the line, McDougal," he growls, his accent much more pronounced. "Say what you want about me, but respect the lady."

"Yup," says Rolland with a nervous nod as Finnegan slowly lowers him back on the ground. I don't think most of the team gives Finnegan the credit for being such an athletic giant until he does something like this to remind us. When Finnegan sets him down, the team seems to let out a sigh of relief, and Duncan, being a loyal beater starts a loud discussion of the upcoming game against the Pride.

Finnegan stalks back to his bench and pulls on his practice jersey before turning to look at me, anger still flashing in his eyes. "She's your sister, Wood. I can't believe you would let him talk like that about her."

I try to decide what Robbie would have done in the same situation, but I'm at a total loss. In fact, I'm still getting over my female mortification about the entire discussion. "You had it in hand," I finally say with a shrug. "Besides, I tend to enact revenge when people least expect it."

"Whatever," says Finnegan before shouldering his broom and stalking out of the room.

"Seriously, Rolland!" snaps Montague as soon as the door shuts behind Finnegan. "He's arse over ankles about her, and you say something like that. You're lucky you didn't get your face plowed in!" Montague exits quickly, likely to make sure that Finnegan is good for practice.

I decide to take the opportunity to get up, enjoying the fact that I'm now the tallest in the room. I slowly approach Rolland, who does seem to look chastised about the whole thing. Looming over him with my arms crossed, I wait until he seems to notice the rest of the remaining teammates are holding their breath and have gone quiet. Turning he looks up at me, a look of fear coming into his eyes.

"You're also forgetting that's my sister you're talking about," I say, making my voice sound as ominous as I can. "I would be a little more careful what you imply about Livvie. Finnegan's not the only one bigger than you."

"Of course Wood," agrees Rolland shakily. "I was just taking the mickey."

"I know, I've got five brothers. All of us adore our dear little Livvie." I say with a grin, hoping he understands that more than just one Wood brother would be after him if he's disrespecting our sister. I'm pretty sure this is what Robbie would have done. Mostly since this is why I could never get a date at Hogwarts. Between Robbie, and Kenny, who was bigger than the average fourth year, I barely got five dates my entire seventh year.

* * *

Practice seems off all week, and team discord seems to have us all in a funk. I actually feel pretty guilty about the whole thing; but on Friday evening, when I get a bouquet of purple orchids via owl with a ticket to the Puddlemere game against the Wanderers for Sunday, I can't help but feel a anything but gleeful. I was planning to sit in the family box, but clearly Finnegan wants to sit together.

The Pride of Portree are harder opponents than I would have expected. We play well against them, but their chasers are a well oiled team who have been together for four years. They manage a season high 300 points against Finnegan, although our chasers do keep it competitive at 270. The game lasts four hours, and when the Pride seeker snags the snitch, I can't help but feel a little heartbroken about our first loss of the season. It was bound to happen sometime, and the Pride are currently one of the top teams in the league, having lost only one game to the Arrows.

The mood in the lockers isn't good. Finnegan is wound tighter than an eight day watch, clearly beating himself up over the many goals, and Jasper looks totally desolate about losing the race for the snitch. Coach has us sit and gives us a post game talk about losing to a good team, learning from our mistakes, regrouping as a team before next week, and the chance to play them again later in the season. Considering this is our first loss of the season, I guess we are fairly lucky, but it still stinks to lose. When I finally get home and shower, I can't regret how I played, but I wish we could have pulled off a win.

The next morning, when I dress for the Puddlemere game, I can't help but wonder how Finnegan has taken the loss. Hopefully it doesn't put a damper on our date. Pulling on a Puddlemere jumper over a pair of grey leggings and boots, I try not to work myself up about this date.

I'm braiding my hair in preparation for a windy day in Wingtown when I hear Robbie let Finnegan into our flat. "Be right out!" I call, hurrying with the last few inches, before grabbing my wand and my bag.

Finnegan is actually wearing his old Puddlemere United Practice Jersey from when he played on the reserve team. The blue brings out his eyes, and I can't help but think he's gorgeous.

"Finnegan," I say with a smile, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

"Bleck, save it for when I'm not around, can't you!" whines Robbie.

"Later, Wood," says Finnegan, ignoring Robbie's disgust and taking my hand to lead me out of the flat.

We apparate to the stadium, blending with general crowds. We are going to sit in the regular stands, and I can't believe Finnegan is wearing his own jersey. Surely we will be recognized. I'm not exactly unrecognizable either, so when we settle into our seats, next to an older couple behind a group of rowdy young men, I try to remain inconspicuous.

It isn't until the empty seats beside us start to fill up that I realize why Finnegan didn't bother trying to remain incognito. James Potter, his wife Elaine, Teddy and Victoire Lupin, and Orion Black and his wife are sitting with us.

"We're sitting with the marauders?" I whisper to Finnegan as they settle into the seats next to us, gathering quite a bit of attention. James is a Potter, which attracts fame regardless. Lupin is possibly the youngest ever winner of a Flamel Prize for his recent discovery of a cure of Lycanthropy, and Black's been in the news lately for a big todo with his marriage. I don't read the prophet as often as I should, but I know my mum was talking about it last week.

"You must be Olivia!" says Ellie Potter reaching over to shake my hand.

"Nice to see you again," I say shaking her hand. "My brother and I were the year behind you at Hogwarts."

"I feel like I've seen you recently," says Teddy Lupin. I'm sincerely hoping he doesn't remember where. I may or may not be a monthly donor of hair at his potions company. All metamorphmagus witches and wizards are encouraged to make a hair donation monthly, which we of course can regrow nearly immediately. Donating more than once a month has been found to diminish the magical quality of the hair, so I usually make mine on the third Wednesday after practice.

"I have a familiar face," I say with a laugh. I say hello to Victoire, and am introduced to Orion's wife Lia, who is currently six months pregnant. They are all so beautiful, and I feel like an awkward overgrown sunflower in the company of delicate roses. Although Victoire is quite tall, she's also overwhelmingly delicate with her veela features. As dainty as I normally feel around Finnegan, these women are doll sized compared to my tall frame and muscular shoulders.

"Well I guess I had better pay up," says James Potter as we finish up introductions. He pulls out a handful of galleons and hands them over to Orion.

"Already lost a bet?" laughs Finnegan, his broad arm loosely wrapped around my shoulders as we sit down ready for the game to start any minute.

"He thought Miss Wood was fictitious, a figment of your quidditch addled brain's imagination," laughs Orion.

"I just didn't think you were really seeing her, not that she was fictitious. My uncle George confirmed that Aunt Angelina was your godmother, and therefore you were quite real," protests James. "I hope you realize that Murph here doesn't usually spend much time with the ladies. You must have done something real special to catch his eye."

Finnegan is bright red, and I can tell he's embarrassed by his friends.

"Auntie Angelina is great. I'm not so sure I did something special to catch his eye, but we just kept bumping into each other too much not to notice each other. Right?" I say, using my elbow a bit to bring Finnegan back into the conversation.

"I might have orchestrated a lot of that bumping into each other," says Finnegan, his ears red tipped.

"You mean you aren't a Kestrel's fan?" I demand, scowling at the mere thought that he's been putting on such a show.

"Merlin help us, she's a Kestrel's fan!" exclaims Orion throwing his hands in the air dramatically. "No wonder he hasn't been able to shut up about her for weeks!"

"He's only the biggest Kestrel's fan on this side of the Irish Sea… and not just because he's so overgrown!" laughs Teddy flashing his hair Kestrels green and gold.

"Of course I'm a Kestrel's fan," scoffs Finnegan. "I just can't be as upfront about it anymore since I play for the Falcons. Downside of playing in the pro's is your favorite team is now the one you play for."

"I still can't believe Puddlemere traded you away," whines Potter. "Last postseason was miserable."

"James here is a big United Fan, and of course a Harpies Fan because of his mum," laughs Finnegan. "He was pretty devastated last season."

"My family has always been big on Puddlemere," I say with a smirk. "I understand your pain."

"Merlin, of course, you're related to David Bell as well!" exclaims James. "Amazing. And your brother isn't doing too bad on the Falcons. I wouldn't be surprised if he pulls off Rookie of the Year."

"Thanks," I say, secretly pleased to hear such complimentary things about myself.

The game is very enjoyable, and despite the wind, and the cooling fall temperatures, being snuggled up next to Finnegan makes it even better. It's also nice to see Puddlemere pull off a win, and I get the chance to cheer extra loudly whenever Davie scores a goal.

The other three women are all healers, and apparently they are all working at St. Mungo's. They also tend to discuss babies more than I probably would like, so I tune in on the guys conversation more. Finnegan seems entirely relaxed with them, chatting like anyone else. They have a teasing banter, and are all avid quidditch fans, discussing the season in an in depth manner that even my family would appreciate.

After the game, we head to the Leaky Cauldron back in London where Mrs. Longbottom lets us sit in the backroom. The food is delicious, and there's lots of joking and laughter. I do like Finnegan's friends, and I have gotten the impression I am the first girl that he's introduced to the group. We're all relaxing by the fire, and I can tell that the young mothers are starting to get antsy about getting back to their babies who are being watched by Weasley grandmothers.

"You ready to get going, Liv?" Finnegan asks me in Gaelic. "If we announce we're ready to leave, I think this group will fall apart fast. The girls look ready to get home."

"Sounds like a plan," I reply.

"She speaks that Irish Gobbly Gook!" laughs James. "She really is your type!"

"We're going to head," replies Finnegan getting up. He makes some sort of handshake with the guys and gives each of their wives a chaste kiss on the cheek before taking my hand. "I'll see you guys next Thursday."

"Thank you for allowing me to join today," I say with a smile. "It was wonderful to get to know some of Finnegan's friends."

"Bye Murph!" they call as we leave the Leaky, heading toward Diagon Alley.

"Thanks for putting up with my friends," says Finnegan as he taps out the brick pattern to enter the Alley. "I think they really liked you. Lainey said she was impressed, and that means James is sure to like you as well. He doesn't disagree with her as a rule."

"They all seemed nice. I wasn't sure exactly how you fit in with the group, but I can see it now. You keep them grounded, keep them real. You're kind of like the glue."

"I don't think I would see it that way. I think I'm more like the fourth guy they found to round out the group," laughs Finnegan.

"Nope, you're the glue," I protest. "Without you, Potter and Black would spend way too much time in their fake arguments, and Lupin would be alone in his seriousness. Plus, don't tell me that your keen observations and innovative ideas weren't a big part of the marauder's success as pranksters. Potter and Black have the nerve, but Lupin and you had to have been a lot of the brains behind the whole thing.

"I admit, I was the planner," laughs Finnegan. "Strategy is my forte."

"So what was the strategy behind us leaving the nice warm fire at the Leaky at seven? Don't tell me you're already done with me for the day?" I ask, trying to sound casual, but hoping that we might spend a little time to ourselves today. It's really not _too_ chilly for an ice cream at Fortescue's.

"The strategy was to get you alone so I could do this," confirms Finnegan, pulling me into the narrow walkway between Quality Quidditch supplies and the stationary shop. Pressing me up against the rough brick wall, his lips glide over mine, completely eliminating any thought of ice cream from my mind. His hair is soft and silky beneath my fingers, and the smooth feel of his name across the back of his jersey contrasts with the jersey material of his Puddlemere kit. Running my hands along his broad shoulders, I pull myself up on tip-toe for better access to his delicious mouth.

"Fin," I sigh the first part of his name as he releases my lips and trails his along my neck. I can feel his fingers running through loose strands of my hair as he loosens my braid. He takes my bottom lip between his teeth in a quick nibble, making me want to moan.

"I find you completely irresistible. I've been pretty strapped to keep my hands off you all day," he finally says, resting his forehead against mine as he plays with the ends of my hair.

"Mmm…" I hum in agreement. "Kisses like that make me wish you didn't do such a good job of keeping your hands to yourself." We both smile, before I give him another quick kiss. "Ice cream?" I suggest. "My treat."

"Lead on," he says stepping back and slipping his rough hand into mine. We enjoy sharing a butterscotch sundae at the ice cream parlor just before it closes. The goodnight kiss outside my flat tastes of buttery ice cream, and is more than just delicious. I could snog that boy all day long, no wonder he doesn't have to talk much.

"Goodnight Finnegan," I say with a smile as I finally close the door.

"Night, Liv," he says with his crooked smile showing off his pearly whites. Leaning against the door, I just want to sigh.

"Someone had a nice snog," says my brother from the sofa, startling me out of my reverie.

"What?" I ask stupidly, my hand flying to my lips.

"Your hair," laughs Robbie, sending my other hand to my hair, which has been loosened from my braid and is indeed very wild. "It looks like sex hair."

Hurrying to the bathroom I gasp at the sight in the mirror. My French braid is mostly picked out and a wild mess of waves. I'm mortified if this is how I looked as we ate our sundae.

 **Hope you liked it! Thanks again for reading and reviewing! XX! E.A.**


	12. Chapter 12

Over the next week, we're being trained too hard for me to be distracted by Finnegan on the field, but off the field is a different story. Keeping my eyes glued to my locker when he's shirtless is quite the feat, but I'm convinced it would be slightly pervy for me to be checking him out when I'm disguised as Robbie.

He sends me an owl on Wednesday, just letting me know he's been thinking of me and to ask how my week has been. I reply back on Thursday, wishing him good luck at the game against the Kestrels, telling him I will be wearing my Falcon's jersey at the game. He just doesn't know how literal I'm being.

To be honest, I'm a little worried about playing Robbie's team. He's been acting funny all week, almost avoiding me since the night I got back from my date with Finnegan. Saturday night, one of us will be a winner, and one of us will be a loser, and one step closer to the end of the regular season.

The morning of the Kestrels vs Falcons game dawns bright and cheerful, but Robbie and I are tense over our Lucky Charms. Our good luck ritual seems stilted, and his good luck kiss only brushes the air above my cheekbone.

Coming off the loss to the Pride, this game is going to be important for the Falcons, proving if we can bounce back after a loss. The tension in the locker room feels like the first game of the season all over again, and knowing that I'll be playing against my twin makes it my own private hell.

The game starts off well enough when I win the toss, shooting off toward the Kestrel goalposts. I've watched enough Kestrel games to know exactly what I need to do to score. Within the first hour of play, I've not only scored ten goals, my career high, but I've also managed a career high twelve steals, seven of which I've managed from my brother. We're ahead, 170 to 50, and the home Kenmare crowd isn't happy at all. I'm thoroughly enjoying myself though. All the scouting has paid off. I've stolen the ball yet again, and am turning toward the goal when Robbie slams into me from the right, causing me to swerve midair.

"Buzz off!" I say, trying to get away as he crowds me even more.

"Sorry, Liv," he says over the sound of the howling wind. Suddenly, the Kestrel's left wing chaser Will Waters slams into me from the other side, causing me to become trapped between the two players. Waters and Robbie are both using their elbows efficiently, and so I do the only thing I can, which is drop the quaffle, hoping one of my teammates can get to it first, but neither of the opposing chasers goes after the quaffle, instead, slowing their brooms even more and pinching me in tighter. Leaning, I try to shoot out from between them, but they are both using all of their weight to keep me in place.

"Robert!" I warn, deciding that a foul is about to occur. I have no qualms punching my brother in the nose. And I'm honestly surprised the ref hasn't blown his whistle due to this trapping maneuver yet. Surely this is worth a penalty shot on my part. The ref does indeed blow the whistle, and I smile in self satisfaction as both Robbie and Waters fall off of my sides, freeing me.

My smile only lasts the second it takes for the first bludger to slam into my left arm with a crunch. Gasping in shock, I look down at my throwing arm and feel nauseated at the distorted angle of my elbow. The pain hasn't really hit me yet when the second bludger crashes into my left shoulder from behind. The force of it is enough to knock me face forward into my broom handle, but I manage to hold onto the handle that is now slippery with blood from my broken nose.

The refs are blowing their whistles wildly as I touch down on the pitch, barely able to stand the pain in my entire left arm.

Coach has flown down from the coaches box and looks furious, already screaming at the ref about the blatant targeting fouls. Robbie targeted me, I realize in shock. My own brother! That bloody traitor.

"Suck it up Wood," Montague is saying to me through my haze of pain. Bork is holding out a hankie but I'm too busy holding my left arm up with my right to take it. If I let go, I think I'll pass out from the pain and morph. I think I've dislocated my elbow as well as my shoulder, and something is probably broken and or torn. "You've got two penalty shots," Montague is saying, but I can't really concentrate.

"Merlin, I haven't seen such blatant targeting from the Kestrels in years!" Finnegan snaps as he finally lands. "You alright Wood?"

"Montague," I grit out between my clenched teeth. I'm honestly worried I'm going to cry. "You're gonna have to take the shots. My arm is done for the game."

"What?!" exclaims coach, coming in on our conversation.

"I'm pretty sure it's dislocated in two places," I grind out, gasping as I take my first step toward the locker room. "Get the healer," I say trying to blink back the tears in my eyes.

"Help him to the bench, Finnegan," coach growls, heading toward the Kestrels coach with a look that could kill.

Finnegan helps me as best he can, but I won't let him touch my entire left side. We hobble slowly to the bench where the trainer is already preparing a pain potion for me to drink. Sinking down, I try to hide my feelings as I can hear the snapping of cameras by the media. This will be the front page of the sports section tomorrow unless the Arrows get upset by the Cannons.

"Hurry back in," says Finnegan before returning to midfield to see what will happen now. Coach is being held back by Montague, and I'm guessing he's close to throwing punches with the Kestrel's coach.

The pain potion tastes awful, but it takes the edge off the pain, and I can think somewhat straight as the healer gets to work, he's an older man I recognize from my many years around professional quidditch games. His sharp wand movement suddenly causes me to scream as both dislocations pop back into place simultaneously.

"Now for that nose!" he says pointing the wand at my face.

"No!" I exclaim. "I'll have my mum do it later," I lie. I'll morph it fixed later tonight when I'm in less pain. It's not my first round with a broken nose, and morphing them healed is much less painful than having someone else do it.

"Have it your way," says the healer, running his wand back along my arm and over my shoulder. Two more wand jabs, and my arm is shaking with tremors following his resetting of the two broken bones of my scapula and my arm near the elbow joint. "Won't be playing for at least a couple days," he says with a shake of his head. "You're lucky the shoulder wasn't shattered. I've seen a shattered shoulder end a career." I'm sick at the thought. Robbie nearly ended my career… heck, his career.

I'm forced to watch with my arm in a sling as the rest of the game goes to shit with Norton, my reserve, in for me. I can barely handle my anger as Robbie manages to steal from the idiot Norton almost constantly. With hardly any time to regroup between shots, Finnegan's defense, which was holding strong, starts to deteriorate almost as much as our chasers. Norton has no concept of passing the ball, and knows less than half of our plays. By the time that Fiona Weatherby catches the snitch, outracing Jasper by inches, the score is already 210 to 190, our lead totally demolished. The final score of 360 to 190 is mortifying, and I'm seething beneath the pain. How Robbie could do this…

In the locker room, it's easy to tell Coach is furious. He kicks Norton out before he can even finish his post game discussion because he can't even stand to look at him. His final words are to me, that I better be healed up by next week, or we're just going to forfeit the game because he can't stomach Norton in for another game.

I can't even get my pads off without magic, and luckily my right arm is my wand arm. I hurry out as soon as the talk is over, hoping to get home before Robbie. Arriving home, I put up the strongest wards I can think of, and clean up, the hot water of my shower turning my arm black with bruises from halfway up my forearm all the way to my back where the impact of the second bludger cracked my scapula.

After my shower, I toss on a loose tank top and a pair of pajama pants, in too much pain to try and even put on regular clothes. I've fixed my nose, and that hurts quite a bit, so I down the second dose of my pain potion before curling up on my bed and falling asleep.

* * *

It's two AM when the pounding on the front door, combined with the pain from my arm manages to wake me from my pain potion induced sleep. Grabbing my wand, I approach the door cautiously. Surely Robbie knows better than to try and come home tonight. Surely he realized that I changed the wards.

Looking out the peep hole, it's Robbie alright. He's trashed, and Char is hanging off his arm, looking more than a little tipsy.

"Jeeze, Livvie, just open the bloody door!" he slurs. "I know you're in there!"

"Why don't you go stay at your buddy Water's house?!" I call through the door, knowing the quidditch reference will go right over Char's head.

"Look, nothing personal! It was just business!" he whines through the door.

"It was underhanded, and you made it personal. You're my twin. You know better than to play like that. You could have shattered my shoulder!" I snap through the door. Char's practically asleep on her feet, but this argument could wake her.

"Your bones and their ability to morph means that a bone shattering injury couldn't put you out of commission. In fact, you'll heal in twice the time any of your teammates could have. Would you have rather we went after Montague?" he protests.

"You know you went after me because you couldn't stand that it was your little sister kicking your ass out there and you know it!" I scream back through the door, not caring if this argument wakes half the building.

"If you are so great, how did we manage to target you so successfully then? If today proved anything, it's that I'm the better quidditch player. My stats were far better than yours. I only scored on your little boyfriend eleven times!"

"You only proved you were better at CHEATING!" I shriek back. "And he's not my boyfriend! AND HE'S A LOT BIGGER THAN YOU!" I'm positively fuming. Robbie and I have never had a row like this. Never. Prior to this, I think our biggest row was the one prior to my accepting the position impersonating him on the Falcons.

"Just let me in Olivia. Don't make me blast this door down!" he demands, pulling his wand out.

"You destroy EVERYTHING!" I shout, throwing open the door and storming out. Pushing past him, I head for the stairs, unable to share an apartment with him right now.

The street is foggy, and there's a light drizzle making the mid-October weather feel colder than it is. I'm still only wearing my tank top and a pair of pajama pants with a puddlemere pattern on them. My feet are bare. If I go home, it will set off mum's wards, and she'll freak out about what's going on. I refuse to return to our flat on principle. Char is at my flat with the _traitor_. And I honestly don't have anywhere to go. I consider summoning the knight bus, but the middle-aged assistant driver Stan gives me the willies. Summoning up my patronus, I send it off to the only other person I can think of at the moment.

I'm sitting on the stoop of my building, huddled under the awning when I hear a pop from the alley.

"Livie, you there?!" comes Finnegan's concerned voice, his Irish brogue heavier than usual.

"Over here," I say miserably, standing up and waving my good arm. "I don't have any shoes."

"Merlin woman," he scolds, hurrying over with a frown that I can make out in the dim lighting. "Give me a heart attack and then you don't even have the good sense to wait for me inside."

"I needed the air," I lie. "Do you have a spare room I can stay for the night. I'm too furious with Robbie to stay in our flat tonight. He's brought my best friend back again," I say, hoping that this will be plausible enough for my reason to be angry with Robbie.

"You must be freezing!" He says. "Come on!" He picks me up, bridal style, carrying me to the alley so we can apparate. Luckily, he's picked me up with my right shoulder pressed to him, or I might have passed out. At least now, my bare feet don't have to walk through the dirty street.

We land with a soft thud in a dark room. My feet recognize cushy carpet as Finnegan sets me down, and the temperature is much more comfortable. Finnegan waves his wand, and a nearby fireplace roars to life, casting flickering light over the room to reveal a cozy sitting room. There's a wireless on the mantle and a bookcase packed with thick texts along the opposite wall. I'm not sure what I expected, but when I pictured Finnegan's house I hadn't quite thought of this. It reminds me a bit of Professor Prewitt's office at Hogwarts. There's an afghan slung over the side of the sofa, and I wrap myself in it before turning to face Finnegan.

"What the hell is going on?" he demands, his features a far cry from the calm teammate I'm familiar with.

"Robbie and I are in the biggest fight of our lives. I'm going to need a place to stay tonight. Tomorrow I'll find a flat, and that will be that."

"In a day? Can you even afford… Nevermind that… What was so awful you had to wake me at two fifteen in the morning and couldn't stay a minute longer at your flat?" he demands. He actually sounds angry. I figured he would take this in stride like everything else.

"I would rather not talk about it," I snap back. I've already unleashed my temper once tonight. I can do it again. However, I can't help the tears that are bubbling up in my eyes. Today was bloody miserable, and now Finnegan is going to hate me.

"Look, I'm sorry," he says softly, putting his arms around me comfortingly. However, this manages to make me hiss in pain and two fat tears to leak out of my eyes. Pulling back, I can feel my vision field darkening with the pain. Slumping to the couch, I manage to escape his embrace.

"Did he do this to you?" Finnegan demands, pulling the blanket off my shoulders, the dim light still adequate enough to see my bruises that cover my arm.

"That's a quidditch injury, but also a big factor in my fight with Robbie," I say honestly.

"Bloody hell, isn't your mum a healer?!" he demands, waving his wand to summon something.

"She freaks out about this kind of things. I took a pain potion before I went to sleep earlier," I admit.

"Well, I have some bruise paste, but you might need another potion before I put it on," he says with a whistle as he examines the bruised and swollen area that my tank top does little to cover.

"I can stomach it if you have one," I say, hoping he has one. If not, applying the bruise paste is going to be brutal.

"Here," he says. "I'll make some tea while it kicks in." He hands me a pain potion, and I can feel it taking some of the edge off, almost immediately. It's a little stronger than the ones I'm used to, because within minutes, my head feels a little more fuzzy than usual. Laying my head down, I spread myself out on the large sofa, careful to keep my weight on my right side as I lie down. It's quite comfy. In fact, I think I could sleep quite well right now.

I'm not sure how long it is before Finnegan returns with the tea. My eyelids feel heavy, so I hear rather than see him sit down next to me.

"I think that worked a little too well," he confesses, and I want to nod, but my head feels heavy and disconnected from my neck so I just make a noise in my throat that I hope signals agreement.

"Sorry about that, Vic brewed it for me a few months ago, and it's probably just sat in the cabinet too long. I'll go ahead and apply that bruise paste while it's still working though," he says sounding apologetic. The application of the herbal scented paste is anything but painless. In fact, if my voicebox was working properly, I might have screamed. Unfortunately, the only way Finnegan can tell that his hands, despite how gentle I know he's being, are causing pain are the tears I can't help streaming down my face. I can't manage to blink them away because my eyelids won't cooperate, so instead the tears stream from my hot eyelids.

After what seems like an eternity, he's finally rubbed the paste into my entire arm, which is throbbing with pain. I hear him disappear, and I'm left with the ebbing pain and the smell of the bruise paste for a few minutes before he returns. When he does, he simply runs his hands through my hair until I fall asleep. It's rather nice and comforting.

* * *

The next morning, I'm more than a little disoriented when I wake in Finnegan's sitting room, covered in his warm afghan. Sitting up, I gingerly test my arm, finding it still incredibly painful, but less so than the day before.

"Good morning sleepy head," says Finnegan arriving with a cup of tea and some toast covered in what appears to be raspberry jam.

"What time is it?" I ask, wondering if I will have time to make the Puddlemere game.

"Early yet, half past seven," he says sitting down beside me. "Feeling better this morning?"

"Much," I say around the toast. I'm famished, and I know if I want to take anything more for the pain I had better have some food in me. "Thanks again for letting me stay last night. Sorry I was so out of it."

"I floo'd Vic. Apparently that pain potion wasn't meant to be passed along to lightweights like you. Apparently it's only for oversized people like me," he says seemingly embarrassed.

"I know a few people who would consider me more than a little oversized," I say with a laugh.

"Hey there, I think you're just the right size. Perfect height for kissing," he says, leaning over and pressing his lips to mine in a good morning greeting. When he says something that sweet, it's hard to resent the fact that I'm obnoxiously tall for a witch.

Returning to my toast, I am soon licking my fingers clean of the raspberry jam. "So you planning on telling me how you got that?" he finally says with a gesture to my arm as I reach for the tea.

"I told you already," I say blowing on the still warm tea before taking a sip. "Quidditch injury. I should know better when I'm playing against one of my brothers." This is unfortunately true, although usually the injuries I sustain on the pitch when playing with my brothers are accidental rather than intentionally inflicted. "I won't underestimate him again," I say with a hollow laugh.

"Alright, I'm satisfied," he says taking my tea from my hands.

"Hey!" I protest. "I wasn't done!"

"I'll get you a cup that isn't laced with vertiserum," he tells me, causing me to sputter. He has no idea what he could have done with that cup of tea.

Returning, he puts another cup of tea in front of me, along with two more pieces of toast. "Sorry, but teammate or not, I have an obligation to report suspected abuse if Wood had done that to you," he says looking apologetic. I hadn't really thought of it that way, but I really wouldn't want Robbie in trouble for something he did on the pitch. I mean, sisterly abuse? Not really. Am I still mad about it? Yes.

"Do you want to join me in the family box for the Puddlemere game against the Wasps?" I ask suddenly.

"Does this mean I get to meet your family?" he asks with a smirk.

"It means you _have_ to meet my family. There's a difference. 'Get' sounds like you want to," I respond.

"I don't see what the big deal is? I like Rob well enough," he says leaning back into the sofa.

"You haven't met the monsters," I tell him with a one armed shrug.

"Monsters?" he asks.

"My four younger brothers, Kenneth, Quinn, Graeme, and Walter," I say getting up and looking around. "Mind if I freshen up in your bathroom before I head back to my flat to get something to wear to the game?"

"Through the kitchen, and down the hall toward the sunroom," Finnegan directs me to the loo. His place is an actual house, not just a flat, and it's quite nice. There's a study, a dining room, a large kitchen, and a cozy sunroom on this floor in addition to the sitting room. Heading into the bathroom, I gasp at my reflection. I've never woken up with my hair in such a disarray. What did Finnegan _do_ to it!?

 **Hope you liked the chapter! Thanks for reading and please review! Love to hear from you!**


	13. Chapter 13

**QUICK RESPONSE TO A REALLY GREAT QUESTION IN A REVIEW: why didnt Liv call Davie? He has a game today, so she couldnt bother him, BUT I should have explained that. Thanks for the great reception to last chapter! Enjoy this chapter! Thanks for reading and reviewing!**

After a brief collection of some necessities at home, and changing for the match, I meet back up with Finnegan and we head to the game together. Mum's thrilled to see me since the boys are home from Hogwarts for fall break. While she raises an eyebrow, and we share a look behind Finnegan's back; she's thankfully close-mouthed about my guest. My younger brothers are much less obnoxious than I had thought. Kenneth is thrilled to have a professional keeper to speak with besides dad. Walt and Graeme are amused to hear his stories about Hogwarts, and Graeme is thrilled to be in the presence of one of the Falcons. That one's always been a bit odd about the teams he supports, and now that 'Robbie' is on the team, he's a full on Falcon's fan.

I manage to enjoy the game, despite the fact that Robbie shows up about an hour into play. I can tell he wants to talk to me, but I stay close to Finnegan and shoot glares at my twin whenever he comes within five feet of me. I'm sure mum can tell we're having a tiff, but only he and I truly know why.

"Make a funny face!" Walt is suddenly saying. Frowning I shake my head.

"Not right now Walt. Maybe another time," I say, turning back to the game just in time to see Davie dodge a bludger.

"Liv makes the best funny faces," says Walt with all the seriousness of an eight year old. "I wish I was special like Liv."

"No you don't," I snap unconsciously being harsher with my youngest brother than I would normally. "Then Robbie would take advantage of you every chance he got."

"Liv!" protests Robbie who has obviously been listening in on the conversation. He grabs my arm, which is too sore to do anything but allow him to pull me to the corner of the box, farther from attentive ears.

"Look, I get it. I'm supposed to be second to your career, but maybe you've put your loyalty with the wrong set of people. I thought I meant more than that, and if that's how you want to be, I want nothing from you, and nothing to do with you, Oliver Robert Wood!" Tearing my arm away, I storm out of the box with as much dignity as I can.

"Livvie! I'm sorry. I would take it back if I could. I…" He's chased me into the hall. He actually sounds genuine.

"Just…" I can feel myself caving. If I have a weakness, it's my idiot twin. He doesn't think things through, and he tends to be easily swayed. Deep down though, I know he didn't mean what happened yesterday in a malicious way. He just didn't do anything to prevent it or stand up to his team and refuse to participate. "Ever again, and I don't care if both of us go to jail. The secret's going to be out. Keep in mind, when the secret's out, everyone will know exactly what happened yesterday."

"Understood," Robbie says solemnly.

Heading down the hall, I decide to watch the remainder of the game from the guest player's box, which is nice because Finnegan joins me and we're able to indulge in some privacy away from the Monsters and my mum.

* * *

Next week we're playing Puddlemere, and I'm anxiously preparing for how I'm going to handle playing against the brother that doesn't know I'm in the league. I end up moving back into the flat with Robbie, much to Finnegan's displeasure. He's incredibly cold toward me at practice when he thinks I'm Robbie, but it makes it easier to ignore his distracting presence.

I've managed to entirely ignore Robbie, and it's officially the longest I've gone without speaking to my twin. I literally have nothing to say. When he tries to congratulate me on the Falcon's win after the match on Saturday, I still want to punch him. We beat Puddlemere by a landslide 400 points, despite Davie's best efforts to score. I could tell he was confused by my play as he constantly kept expected me to do what Robbie would do.

It's fun watching Robbie struggle through the family dinner that night as I'm not putting my two cents in about what happened like I usually do. The Kestrels played Tutshil this afternoon, and he didn't get to see the game. Davie keeps recapping plays he doesn't remember. I'm finding it quite hilarious.

* * *

The following week, prepping for the game against the Arrows is nerve racking. They are amazing, and undefeated so far this season. Coach has us working harder than we've worked all season, and so my intentional ignoring of Robbie gets much easier.

The Arrows game is cold, and the fact that the wind is howling doesn't make it any better. We manage to keep the score fairly even for the first couple hours of play. Their chasers are amazing, but we're working just as hard and Finnegan is one of the toughest keepers in the league. When the seekers take off after the snitch, the score is tied at 210, and I know it's going to come down to who can win that race.

I can see the bludger racing toward Jasper, but there's nothing I can do about it. It's too far ahead of me to try and put myself in its path, but I shoot after it anyways, abandoning the battle for the quaffle. The aim on it was clearly amazing considering Jasper's speed, and when it plows into him, knocking him from his broom completely, our chances at winning are totally lost.

I manage to grab his arm and pull him up behind me on my broom before he can fall more than ten feet, but the Arrow's fans are already cheering loudly as their seeker Liam Jones has already caught the snitch.

"Feck," mutters Hart behind me as we head to the ground.

"We'll get them next time," I say halfheartedly.

Everyone is glad I managed to catch Hart, but no one is thrilled about losing the game. With next week being our biggest rivalry game against the all female Harpies team, we have to win if we want to come out of the first half of the season on a positive note. And the Harpies won't make it easy. Coming out of Hogwarts, I like to think that I would have been a good candidate for the Harpies if their entire team including their reserve wasn't full. I would have chosen a professional name of Olivia Goodwood. All of their players have G's in their names.

I'm contemplating how different being on an all girls team would be from being on the Falcons when coach changes topics at the end of his little speech that I've tuned out a bit.

"And, don't forget that with the midseason break coming up, we'll be having our midseason party. It will be at Falcon's stadium on Saturday November 26th. I'm sure the lot of you will need plenty of time to find dates for this," coach laughs at his own joke before clapping his hands in dismissal.

"Finnegan, you gonna ask your new girl?" asks Bork, causing me to slow in removing my pads.

"I'm hoping Liv will want to go," he says after a minutes. "I was thinking it might be a nice night to ask her to be my official girlfriend."

Cue the catcalls. The boys are going to be taking the mickey on poor Finnegan for a while.

I'm sure I'm blushing, but I try to morph my skin a greenish tone to cover it. "You're making me sick!" I say before hurrying out of the locker room before I overhear anything more about myself.

Hurrying home, I can't help but wonder what I'll wear to this midseason party. I'm in the middle of contemplating this when I remember one little hitch in the whole plan. Robbie is supposed to be at this party. And for the purposes of this party, _I'm_ Robbie…. Shit…

I've just finished showering and wrapping myself in my robe, before sulking into the kitchen to get some ice cream when Robbie pops into the flat. I still haven't spoken to him since _the incident_. However, in this moment, I realize what he could do to be forgiven.

"Robbie," I say, causing him to stop and turn, wide eyed. He looks hopeful, and I almost feel guilty about giving him the cold shoulder for the past two weeks.

"Livvie?" he asks.

"How would you feel about attending the Falcon's midseason party on the 26th? I would like to go with Finnegan, but Robbie still needs to attend. You could bring Char," I say.

"Of course, whatever you want," he says a little too eagerly. "The Kestrels are having ours the 27th, so it will work out perfectly."

"Great," I say, turning to sit at the table. "Maybe if you're especially nice to me in the next two weeks, I'll agree to be your date to that one, considering you don't want to look like a total loser and you can't bring Char as your alter ego."

"Livvie?" he says. I look up to see he looks sad. "Can I have a hug?" He sounds incredibly pathetic and to be honest, I'm a little shocked. Apparently my silent treatment has been worse on my twin than I thought.

"Oh fine, I forgive you," I say with a sigh standing up before my brother can practically suffocate me in his giant arms. "Just don't do it again," I say over his muffled sobs. Robbie makes it so hard to stay mad at him for long. He may not think things through, but he's genuinely remorseful after.

* * *

Finnegan and I end up spending Sunday afternoon in Hogsmead, just enjoying the early November chill, and the comfort of the familiarity of Hogsmead. We get lunch at Three Broomsticks, and then head to Honeydukes, and the Quidditch supply store.

"Want to see the inside of the Shrieking Shack?" he asks as we head along the path toward the haunted building.

"Are you insane?" I ask.

"Look, technically, it was never haunted. I actually lived there for about a seven months after graduation with the Marauders. Teddy owns it," explains Finnegan.

"What?" I am a little confused.

"His dad was a werewolf and during his Hogwarts years had to go to the shack every full moon to protect others from himself. The marauders and I used it as a hangout in school, and we lived there together for several months. I moved out when I got traded to Falmouth."

"Well, I wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing," I say mustering some courage. "Lead the way!"

We end up making out on a dusty sofa in the sparse living room. I will say, if Hogwarts students knew what a cozy little refuge this place was, the shack could be renamed the "Love Shack". I'm sure it would be bustling during Hogsmead visits.

* * *

The Harpie's game is at their stadium, a mass of gold and green decorate the stands. We're the most heated rivalry in the league, the all men's team and the all women's team. The feminists in the stands are frothing at the mouth to disparage our men's team, and the Harpie's themselves are quite riled for the game. Coach tried to downplay the rivalry before the game, but we knew it would be like this. The small groupings of Falcon's fans are few and far between, but it's our last game before the midseason break, so we had best win.

As we line up, I stare down the opposing chasers, Regina George, Gretchen Winners, and Karenia Greengrass. Regina George is tall, blond, and plays a game very similar to the one I play. Gretchen and Karenia are her dutiful sidekicks, but if we're going to shut them down, I'm going to have to take on the George and win. She plays Center chase, but Karenia on her left isn't going to be very challenging for me, so I've got a few maneuvers planned for Miss George.

Out of the corner of my eye, I also note the chemistry between Rolland and his former teammate, Grace Gregoravich. At the whistle, I shoot off, and after a brief grapple for the ball with Regina, manage to pass it to Montague who zips our first possession down the field.

By the time the rain that had been threatening all morning starts, we're already ahead sixty points. Regina seems to have realized that I'm double teaming her with Montague, and we're largely ignoring Karenia.

"Mr. Wood, you seem to have the ball and I want it," Regina whispers in my ear, as we zip down the field, Montague having passed to me seconds ago. She's bumping up against me, and I'm not afraid to push back, throwing my weight into my shoulder and pushing her away. Spinning out, I pull ahead and score through the left hoop. Regina pulls up next to me as the ball is retrieved.

"You know, what they're saying about you must be true. You really don't have eyes for women," she says, actually drawing my attention for a second.

"Not when I'm playing a game luv," I reply glibly, giving her a half smile, before shooting forward to intercept the toss in intended for Regina. Sometimes I scare myself I'm so good at pretending to be Robbie. Lobbing it easily back through the hoop, we score again. Shrugging my shoulders, I fall back as the furious keeper passes it to Winners. I'm certain Regina's face is red and furious, but we're playing a game here, and if she wants to make a pass at one of the players on the other team, it might result in a turnover.

Winning a rivalry game by over 300 points puts us in an excellent place going into the mid season break. Fin has a wonderful game, and I played really well. Coach pulls me aside and lets me know that I'll be in the running for rookie of the year if I keep this up. I can't help feeling a little chuffed about it all. Rookie of the year, won't Robbie be green with jealousy. Although, he will get the credit. The thought makes me a little blue as I head home after the game. Way to rain on my parade brother…

 **Tell me what you think! I would really love some inspiration from reviews! I only have one more chapter completely prewritten, so I need to get to work! Thanks! E.A.**


	14. Chapter 14

**Thanks for reading and reviewing. I have been wonderfully inspired to write by reviews! Excited for some of the upcoming chapters and this one!**

I know Finn doesn't really love being the center of attention. If I learned one thing about him over the past few months, it's that he's actually a little shy. Keeping that in mind, along with the fact that I don't want to draw too much attention to myself, I dress in a fairly simple black dress for the Mid-Season break party. Slipping a pair of black pumps on my feet and some silver teardrop earrings in my ears, I'm satisfied with my appearance. It's a little on the short side and completely backless, but the long sleeves covering my arms keep it from being too much skin. The sweetheart neckline complements the statement necklace I bought with Char a few weeks ago, and the earrings complement the updo I managed to pin my hair into.

I know I won't outshine Char, who agreed to be Robbie's date with less reluctance than I was expecting. She's been holding out against becoming a true couple with him for so long, it's hard to say if she's finally cracking, or if she's already cracked and keeping up the act for show. Either way, the sparkly quaffle red dress she picked out at the boutique earlier this week is going to have every eye in the room fixed on her.

Inspecting my make up in the mirror, I can't keep myself from morphing my eyelashes obscenely long. There are going to be models and part veela's at this party for Merlin's sake. Duncan's been bragging about this French Veela he's been seeing for weeks now. A girl has to have a little something extra to feel confident walking into such a competitive environment.

Grabbing my silver clutch with my wand in it, I head into the living room to wait for Finn. Robbie is dressed in a black tux that I picked out for him, and he's nursing a glass of Scottish whiskey.

"You look real classy Liv," he says with a nod of approval. "Just don't let me see that red lipstick all over Finnegan."

Brushing the stubborn curl that has refused to stay in my chignon off my cheek, I wave Robbie off. "I'm trying not to garner too much attention. Wouldn't want anyone paying too close attention to me tonight."

"Good luck with that," laughs Robbie. "I'm betting Finnegan is forced to knock a few heads if he wants to keep you to himself."

"Piss off," I laugh, blushing at the compliment. Robbie's been trying to stay in my good graces for a while, and the brown nosing is honestly getting to be too much. I snatch his whiskey out of his hands and take a drink, smiling internally at his revulsion when I hand him the glass back with a red lipstick stain on the rim. Slipping my wand out, I cast a sticking charm on my lips to prevent any more of my lipstick from wearing off, on any more glasses or perhaps Finnegan. A girl should always be prepared.

As if thought of him has conjured him, a knock sounds at the door. Opening it, I step back and take in the sight of Finnegan in a beautifully fitted Tux. I've been around large well formed men my entire life, exhibit A being Robbie across the room, but the sight of Finnegan turns my mouth to ash. It always surprises me how far I have to look up to see into his eyes, how his thick auburn hair makes me want to run my fingers through it, how broad his shoulders are compared to his narrow hips.

"Hello Finnegan," I finally manage to say finding my voice. He looks so handsome, he's literally taken my breath away.

"Hello Livvie. You look very lovely today. Hello Wood," he says greeting me with a smile and a nod for Robbie.

"Finnegan," greets Robbie. "I'll see the two of you shortly. I had better go collect Char if I want to be on time." Tossing back the last of his whiskey, he sets down the glass with a clink before turning on his heel and apparating straight out of the apartment.

Looking to Finnegan, I nearly startle at the intense look he's giving me. "You are beautiful every day, but you truly look especially radiant tonight," says Finn softly, causing me to blush.

"You look rather handsome yourself," I quip. "Would you like a drink before we head out?" I ask gesturing toward the whiskey bottle on the side table. Finnegan nods, so I conjure up two glasses and pour a couple of drinks. Handing one to Finnegan, we toast before tipping our glasses back.

We lock up the apartment and make our way to apparation point. The comfortable weight of Finnegan's strong arm around my waist, we spin off to Falmouth.

The Falcons have a large ballroom on the east side of the stadium that can be rented out for weddings. It has a view on one side of the field and the other side overlooks the sea. It's quite picturesque, and I've never been in this particular area of the stadium. I don't have to fake curiosity as I take in the room, pausing to look at the moonlit sea crashing into the cliffs to the east of the stadium.

"It's easy to forget that's what is on the other side of the stadium when we focus our attention on the match inside these walls," I ponder aloud.

"Once in a while I take a fly out along the coast after practice. There's something about the salty air after a long hot practice that's very refreshing. Much too cold for such a ride this time of the year, but in the summer, it's amazing."

"It sounds lovely," I sigh, leaning into him as we watch the scene below us.

"I will have to bring you along sometime," offers Finn, pressing a kiss to my cheek and using his hand on the small of my back to guide me toward the party.

We are some of the last to the party, Robbie being the only 'team member' not yet here, but management and coaching staff are still arriving. I am a little surprised to see Rolland with a date I do not recognize. I'm not sure why I expected him to bring Grace from the Harpies, but I thinking about it, it doesn't seem realistic. The redhead on his arm literally looks like she's just stepped from the pages of Playwizard magazine, but he barely seems to notice as she blatantly flirts with Hart. Hart's most recent arm candy does look rather put out, the glare she's casting in the direction of Rolland's date leaving nothing to the imagination as to which unforgivable she'd like to use.

Finnegan and I take our places at one of the two player's tables with Montague, greeting him and his wife Adella. Gregor Bork has brought a brunette that I am pretty sure I recognize as one of the singers from Fifth Harpy who introduces herself as Cami. We claim our seats, Finnegan flagging over a waiter to obtain a glass of firewhiskey for himself and a glass of wine for me. Our arrival is rather quiet, and I'm pleased when Duncan and Rolland don't find their way over to our table to tease Finnegan like I was secretly dreading. Since I've met many members of management in the past at league events with my family, introductions are mostly unnecessary, and we say our hellos to upper management quickly and efficiently. Finnegan keeps me tucked to his side as we make our rounds about the room before dinner. He has his hand strategically placed on the small of my back, bared by the backless dress I'm wearing, and caress of his fingers keeps me distracted for the majority of the cocktail hour.

Char and Rob's arrival is much more eventful. She hasn't officially met most of the team, and the bright red sparkly dress was sure to catch everyone's eye. Rob is forced to introduce her to everyone, and I can tell she's nervous the way her laugh trills through the room with each introduction. She looks gorgeous, and I'm happy for Rob as I hear him proudly assert she's his girlfriend without protest from Char. This is a rather new development. Finnegan and I share a look, proving he was eavesdropping as well before they finally make their way over to our table, claiming the last two seats.

Once everyone is seated for dinner, the men are completely distracted by the food. If not for the cleverly hired musicians, we would have been forced to listen to their chewing as dinnertime conversation was near non-existent. Adella at least tried to start up a conversation with Char, Cami, and I on some recent headlines in the ministry, but unfortunately I was rather uninformed on the topic.

Coaching staff and management made the obligatory speeches updating everyone on the expectations for the post season and reflecting on the season so far. I was especially proud to hear the complimentary things Coach Birch, and Davis, the chasing coordinator, had to say about me. I tried not to let it get to me when everyone gave Robbie a round of applause and he soaked it all up like he had earned it. Instead, I squeezed Finnegan's hand under the table when the Manager, Mr. Pollick, begins discussing how pleased they are with the trade to obtain Finn last season. The way his ears turn slightly red is endearing, and makes me want to lean over and kiss him in that spot just behind them, that I know he especially likes.

Eventually, speeches are done, finishing up with Quimby, our owner, announcing that mid season bonuses will be arriving in the next week, just in time for Christmas, and to enjoy our break, but not too much. The plates are cleared, the dessert table appearing in the corner, and the musicians striking up some lively dancing tunes. Bork is immediately dragged onto the floor by his talented date, while Adella drags her husband toward the pudding.

"Would you like to dance, or are you more interested in dessert?" asks Finnegan.

"Take me dancing, Finnegan," I smile, holding out my hand. I cannot help but remember the first time we went dancing. The way that man sweeps me across the floor makes my heart skip a beat. It's always a little magical. I wonder if he has a bit of fae in his heritage.

We end up taking our dessert to go, sneaking it into some to go boxes that Finnegan manages to conjure up. We floo to his house so we can be alone, knowing that Char and my brother are sure to be returning to my apartment. I slip off my heels as soon as we get to his house. No matter how many cushioning charms I use, I have never found a high heeled shoe to be genuinely comfortable for more than a few hours, especially when there is dancing involved.

"How about some ice cream with the cake?" asks Finn, already loosening his tie, making him look handsomely disheveled.

"Sounds wonderful," I agree, heading into the kitchen, which I have become fairly familiar with in the past month. "Do you want some more firewhiskey or would you prefer wine?" I ask, pouring myself a glass of wine.

"I'll stick with the whiskey," he laughs after reading the label on the bottle I've opened. "That's much too sweet."

"Suit yourself! I think it's yummy!" I laugh, taking the piece of cake he's plated for me, and handing him the tumbler of whiskey I poured him.

We set up a picnic in front of the fire in the sitting room, the wireless playing softly in the background. The cake is amazingly good, and I consider myself a bit of a cake connoisseur, but not quite as lovely as the kisses that follow. For as much as he hasn't ever been linked to any witches romantically in the media, that Murphy Finnegan is an amazing kisser.

"So," says Finnegan between kisses. I've completely divested him of his shirt, and his hair is a mess. I don't even want to know what mine looks like, considering that Finn finds ways to muddle it up in a way that I'd never even fathomed.

"So what?" I ask, brushing my loosened hair over my shoulder. Like I said, I'm not sure what he does to it.

"Rob and Char are officially a thing? How long has that been going on?"

Sighing, I adjust myself in his lap and lean my head on his shoulder. "I mean it's been in the works for practically years. I'm not sure when she caved and made it official though. They've been dancing around each other since at least fifth year, and it's not exactly a secret that she's practically moved into the flat. Well… don't tell my mum and dad."

"He doesn't talk about her much at practice is all. Barely talks about anything to be honest," says Finn, and I enjoy the way his chest rumbles as he speaks.

"Says the quietest player on the team!" I tease. "And don't say you aren't, because we both know you are just as private as Rob."

"You're right. I guess I'm just wondering how he did it."

"Did what?" I ask distracted by the way he's trailing his hand along my arm.

"Convinced Char to be his girlfriend."

"Oh, me too. He's a bit of an idiot actually. I wouldn't be surprised if she asked him," I speculate, causing Finnegan's chest to rumble once again with laughter.

I'm laughing as well when his lips start trailing up the side of my neck again, distracting me from conversation again. "What would it take for me to convince you?" he murmurs in my ear between kisses. It takes me a minute to realize what he means as his tongue swirls the shell of my ear, and his hand plays with the hem of my skirt along my thigh.

Shivering, I turn in his arms and press my lips to his, straddling his lap. "You've convinced me," I whisper against his lips, smiling at the way his lips form a smile against mine. He pulls back and looks into my green eyes, a look of pure satisfaction on his face, as he lets his wandering hands settle on my waist. "Well I didn't say you had to stop convincing me," I laugh finally, pulling his lips back to mine. If I'm going to be saddled with a boyfriend, he had better make it worth it. And let me tell you, Murphy Finnegan is _worth it_.

* * *

The holidays in the Wood house are always a little crazy. With a family of seven children, it's to be expected, especially with so many boys. This year, Robbie and I ended up in charge of picking up the Monsters from the Express. Kenneth, Quinn, and Graeme tumbled off the train with their trunks and were luckily easy to spot. I mean, how many overgrown brunette families wearing Gryffindor quidditch sweaters can there be. Kenneth must have hit _another_ growth spurt, because I swear he's even taller than we last saw him, and Graeme looks tall enough to be a fourth year, not the firstie he is. I know it's only been a few months since mum pulled them out of school for a match, but it seems forever.

Walt came with us, and his enthusiasm at pestering Graeme about Hogwarts is amusing. I know he already cannot wait until he can attend. Kenneth is already ranting about an OWLs potions project. Apparently he's paired with Lily Potter who 'couldn't be more swotty about the entire thing if she tried.' Quinn is rambling about his new classes, Care of Magical Creatures and Divination. I took Arithmancy myself, so I don't know much about divination to be honest. It sounded like a bit of a waste of time to be honest.

We managed to get the boys home in time for lunch, mum having invited Gran Wood to cook for us. She and Grandpa Wood are excited to see the boys. The afternoon quidditch is a blast as usual, although a bit cold. Kenneth is incredibly frustrated by how much I've improved since the last time we played. We played two v three, Quinn and I against Robbie, Graeme and Walt with Kenny keeping for both teams. Unfortunately I can't exactly tell him I've been training as a professional for the past three months and his captain on the Gryffindor team isn't exactly holding him to the same standards as mine.

"Merlin Robbie, Livvie is the one who should be playing professionally," he jokes as we lock the brooms in the shed. "She was getting more goals past me than you!"

Robbie doesn't exactly take Kenny's comments well, snapping, "Well maybe all that extra training with that professional boyfriend of hers is giving her an unfair advantage."

"Boyfriend!" exclaims dad, arriving home from a coaches meeting with Davie at the most inopportune time. I shoot a glare at Robbie before putting on my most innocent Daddy's princess look.

"Finnegan and I made it official a few weeks back," I announce with a bit of forced cheer. Not exactly how I planned on breaking the news to my dad. I resist the urge to roll my eyes as every single one of my brothers begins making kissing noises and giggling like a pack of girls. This does in fact include the 27 year old Davie.

"Uggh! This is why I don't advertise my love life!" I huff, resisting the urge to hex Robbie whose kissing noises have become suspiciously wet sounding.

"Ohhh… Livvie's in LURVE!" exclaims Graeme, making all of my brothers laugh harder while my dad seems to turn a bit red.

"If you and Finnegan are going to be serious, I want you to start bringing him around," instructs dad. Merlin, now he's going to give Finn the third degree. "I expect him for Sunday dinner this week."

"What a wonderful idea daddy, although surely Robbie should bring his girlfriend Char as well. They made it official before we did," I simper in my daddy's princess voice, giving Robbie a smirk as dad redirects his attention to my twin.

"What!?" exclaims dad looking betrayed. "Does no one tell me anything anymore?"

"I got the best marks in my year for Transfiguration for the term!" exclaims Quinn.

"Merlin, you're so swotty Quinn! Lily Potter is a swot too!" complains Kenneth. I swear, I've heard almost as much from him about Lily Potter as quidditch since he got home. That's kind of a big deal.

"Well I'm going to head out! I'm totally knackered!" I say, heading toward the apparation point and waving at my dad as my brothers drag him toward the house.

"Don't think you're off the hook, young lady! I will see you and that boyfriend of yours this Sunday!" calls dad just before I'm out of range. Frowning, I heave a sigh and apparate to Falmouth. No putting this off. I had best let Finnegan know right away. If he survives dinner with the Monsters and my parents, maybe he will be a real keeper.

 **So I hope you liked it! I am thinking this fic will be somewhere between 5 and 7 chapters more. Thanks for reviewing! It really makes my day. E. Abbene**


	15. Chapter 15

**Hi! Please enjoy and review!**

Wiith Christmas fast approaching, I feel busy despite not having constant quidditch practices. We are supposed to be going in and lifting, and doing our strength work outs, but pretty much all flight training is on our own. I end up doing most of that at mum and dad's with the boys since mum has me watching them most days while she's at work. I doubt they would burn down the house, but you never really know. Besides, it's not too bad hanging out with them.

The only real downside is being forced to drag them along Christmas shopping in Diagon Alley. I'm not saying the Monsters don't know how to act properly in public. I honestly _think_ they do. They just chose not to. I swear I lost all of them except Walter, who I may or may not have used a leash charm on to prevent him from wandering off. However, being Woods, I knew where they would all end up: Quality Quidditch Supplies. Quinn was reading up on strategy, Kenneth was looking at new keepers pads, and Graeme was evaluating the newest brooms. I have a feeling mum and dad will get him a new one once he's a second year and able to bring it to school. First years still are not allowed to have brooms.

Having the boys with me motivates me to finish my shopping in one go. I even managed to buy something for Finn. He's a tough person to buy for to be honest. Maybe it's just hard to buy for men that aren't related to you. My brothers were all easy. Candies and quidditch things. Our family goes through broom polish and practice bludgers like other families go through milk and bread. Mum can always use a refill kit on potions ingredients and a new book to read while she brews. Dad's easy as well. Anything quidditch related, or surprisingly he does enjoy a good book on charms theory as well.

The best thing about being a professional quidditch player, besides getting to literally play quidditch as a job, has to be that I don't have to feel bad about how much I'm spending on Christmas gifts. In the past, I've been forced to pinch knuts for months, babysitting the Monsters more than I would really care to in order to save enough just to purchase decent Christmas gifts for everyone on my list. This year, I don't even blink at prices when I'm looking for something nice for Dominique. She's been off in South America doing some sort of Curse Breaking for Gringotts, but she's going to be home for the holidays. I simply cannot wait to catch up with her. Some wonder witch products for Char, as well as a romance novel by an author I know she quite likes. Spur of the moment, I grab a variety of WWW products from Uncle George's too. The Monsters will probably use them on me, but oh well. Plus, I might need something for Finn's friends if we meet up with them, and I'm honestly not sure what else to get a Marauder.

I end up splurging and taking the boys out for dinner at The Leaky. Mum is working late, and dad and Davie said they would be training late together when I took the boys this morning. I didn't really feel like cooking for them all, so I figure we might as well just eat out. It would probably be much simpler to eat in Muggle London, but I'm not sure exactly what the boys might have bought at Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, and I don't want to risk an incident with the Ministry. Instead, we are interrupted a few times as family friends pass through the Leaky and spot our overgrown, and overly loud, family.

"Livvie!" I hear, looking up to see Dominique and her sister, arms full with Victorie's twins and many shopping bags.

"DOM!" I exclaim, stumbling out of the booth to hug my very tanned part veela friend.

"Merlin, are these the Monsters!?" she laughs looking over my shoulder to see my brothers, jaws hanging open in the presence of two beautiful part veelas. You would think they had never seen Dom at our house growing up.

"Yup, getting bigger every day," I confirm. "How every single one of them looks almost exactly like my dad…" I shake my head and we laugh.

"Lynx looks just like his daddy," laughs Dom, setting her bags on my empty seat and taking one of the twins from Victoire who smiles in greeting.

"Hi, Olivia," she says. "How are you?"

"I'm great, just been doing some Christmas shopping today with my brothers. How are you?" I say, laughing as her daughter turns her hair bright purple to match my sweater. I'm tempted to turn my own hair as well. It's not every day you run into a baby metamorphmagus.

"That's what we've been doing. So much family to shop for," agrees Vic. "How is Murphy? I haven't seen him in a few weeks, but James said you've made it official."

"WHAT!" exclaims Dom loudly, causing the baby in her arms to start fussing, his hair turning red in anger. "Are you dating _Murphy Finnegan_!?"

I turn red all over, barely preventing my hair from changing color as well. "I swear I was going to write, but then you were coming home!"

"You're only dating the fittest Keeper in the entire British Irish League, and you didn't think to owl me!?"

"I mean… It hadn't come up in our letters recently!" I protest. We've been having a discussion on transfiguration theory, something that came up with a recent problem at work for her. I hadn't felt like tagging on a P _.S. I'm snogging the hottest thing on two legs this side of the Atlantic_!

"This is 'need to know' stuff Liv! You can't be keeping secrets like this from your best friends!" she protests. Little does she know the hundred other secrets I've been keeping.

"Sorry. We can have girls night this week, maybe Tuesday. I'm not watching the Monsters and Robbie is going out with some buddies, so Char should be available."

"What does Robbie's schedule matter?" asks Dom, bouncing the now green haired Lynx while a distracted Victoire bundled up their purchases in one bag, shrinking each bag methodically.

"Well… she and Robbie are sort of…" My brothers fill in the blank as they begin making their trademark obnoxious kissing noises.

"Does no one tell me ANYTHING anymore!" exclaims Dom. "Next you'll tell me you're playing professional quidditch!"

I laugh and we make plans to have a girls night the following week, and I have a chance to catch up a little with Victoire who I have not seen since the Puddlemere game over a month ago.

"I've been meaning to ask you some things for Vic here. You know, about Lynx and Lyra. I forgot about you being a good resource on metamorphmagi plus, being a twin. I bet your mum would have plenty of great ideas for Vic."

"Oh… um… maybe we could discuss that Tuesday… I had really best be getting these Monsters back to the house," I say nervously. I would really rather that Vic doesn't make the connection I'm a metamorphmagus.

"Well, I will owl you… or maybe Floo… I can't wait to see your new apartment!" Dom waves as she and Vic head out with the twins and a less conspicuous number of bags.

"Alright, ready to go?" I say turning to see that the Monsters have finished my supper for me. That's okay, I was basically done anyways. What am I going to tell Dom? It's one thing to lie to one of my best friends when they are halfway across the world. It's about to get much harder.

* * *

Mum is home when I stumble through the floo just behind the Monsters. They are of course hurrying off to their rooms to hide their purchases, but I've already shrunk and tucked mine away in my bag. She's still wearing her healer robes and has warmed up some leftovers and looks pretty tired.

"How was work?" I ask, leaning against the kitchen island.

"Long and exhausting. I had four of my maternity patients go into labor today! I don't know what it is about the holidays that brings on all these premature deliveries, but I shipped two babies off to the neonatal intensive care unit. I didn't get lunch, and I was starving when I got home. Thanks for taking care of the boys today."

"That sounds mentally and emotionally exhausting. We were so lucky that all of us were born strong and healthy."

"Considering what some of my coworkers are capable of screwing up, I especially agree." Mum's been trying to get one of her fellow Obstetrics Healers fired for years. I won't say who, but let's just say he nearly killed a Weasley, and they weren't very happy. "How was Diagon Alley with the boys? I gave up taking them without your father or Davie as a second set of eyes years ago."

"I may or may not have used a leash charm intended for dogs on Walt," I give a guilty smirk and twirl my wand. Mum laughs, some of the strain from the day seeming to fall off her face.

"Clever. I always knew you were bright. How did you manage to make the charm attach to a human with a magical signature?"

"I adjusted the charm by attaching it to a non-animated object, and then corrected for the fact it was a non-being with an inverted wand movement and a jab. I actually cast the charm on his trainers. I figured he wasn't going far without those."

"Charms theory is so far above my head anymore." Mum is shaking her head. "I know your dad keeps up with some of that, but if it isn't related to healing or potions, I probably haven't used it in a while. You're so clever. You could do great in an experimental charms job. Maybe there's an unspeakable position at the ministry you could apply for. Last I heard Malfoy Enterprises still had an experimental charms division. I know they have that division integrating muggle and magical technology and when the first products hit market, they are always huge. Remember when the PortKey Car came out?"

I know it's wrong and I don't want to, but I can't keep putting my mum off about getting a job. I even feel like I've been avoiding spending time at home, because I know she will want to bring it up. I can't keep avoiding my mum, it's too hard. "Mum, I know you're worried, but I'm happy with what I'm doing. I just really can't talk about it, if you know what I mean." She's going to think I accepted a job as an unspeakable or with a company where I'm not allowed to discuss my employment. These type of jobs aren't that uncommon, because until a product is launched, sometimes there's more than a little espionage from competitors. Using lip locking curses and unbreakable vows to protect company information isn't uncommon at all. My job is secret, but I think mum's going to get the wrong idea.

Mum's green eyes, the same ones that I share, light up with understanding. "Ohhh! Say no more. I completely understand." She nods her head sagely and gives me that smile she saves for when you do something extra special. I feel sick seeing her with that smile, because I don't think I really deserve it. While I didn't _exactly_ lie, I didn't tell the truth either. I knew she was going to get the wrong idea, and if this gets her off my back for the holidays, so be it.

I change the subject anyways. "So, Dad said he wants me to bring Finnegan around soon."

"Ohh, yes. He and I discussed this. I want to have a family dinner next Wednesday. I don't work, your father and Davie can both be here. Robbie and you will be here if you know what's good for you."

"And you expect me to bring Finnegan?" I am a little leery about the entire clan being present. I was sort of hoping mum would agree to go out to dinner, just her, dad, Finn and me. Before we throw in the Monsters and Davie as well.

"That's half the point," she says, finishing her leftover lasagna and waving her wand to banish the dishes to the sink.

"What's the other half?" I joke.

"Meeting whoever Davie has been hiding from me," she says darkly. I can practically hear my jaw hit the floor. "He thinks I don't know, but I noticed some things at his apartment that I know aren't his doing, and I'm going to confront him about it this weekend."

I swear mum has some sort of sixth sense about these things. Davie hasn't been serious with anyone since his Hogwarts girlfriend Jackie Bagnold got a little too fame oriented when he made it big time in the pros. I hate that his heart was broken, but it was all over the papers when she was caught cheating on him. She tried to use the publicity to jump start her career as a journalist and no one was very happy.

"Maybe that's why he's been so busy lately," I say, happy for the change in conversation.

"I just know something has been going on for a while. I can't put my finger on it, but he will bring whoever he's been sneaking around with to dinner next week."

Mum and I spend the evening quietly discussing what we are going to get the Monsters, Dad, and Davie for Christmas. We make tentative plans for what time we will do Christmas with the family. Since Mum's parents are gone, we only really have to worry about Gran and Grandpa Wood. Mum also reminds herself that she has some old Christmas decorations stored somewhere that will be perfect for Robbie and me to use at the apartment.

* * *

I decide that if I'm going to host girls night at Robbie's and my apartment, I can at least get some free decorating out of it. Mum has dumped off quite a few of her and dad's older decorations on us (have I mentioned the woman NEVER gets rid of ANYTHING?). I've bought wine, Chinese takeout, and cookies, the makings of a girls night. The wireless is tuned into some jolly Christmas music in the background. I've set up the tree, and some garland, but have yet to do much else besides open the wine.

"Oh, decorating your first apartment for your first Christmas in a new home!" exclaims Dom as she arrives and I give her a short tour before pouring her a glass of wine. "Are you sure you want Char and I to help?"

"You're sure to be more helpful than Robbie," I laugh. "He could honestly care less."

"You should have seen how long it took them to unpack the kitchen things their mum sent over," laughs Char popping into the kitchen. "Ohhh, Chinese! Your brother never feeds me Chinese!"

"That's because Robbie has become addicted to that Indian place down the street," I say making a face. I don't particularly care for the spicy things he orders, but Char is willing to eat it with him, so they've been frequenting the place so much that the delivery driver knows where we live without asking for an address any longer.

"Yeah, since when do I have to find out my best friends are seeing people indirectly!?" whines Dominique. "First Vic tells me that Livv is dating Murphy Finnegan, and then Livv tells me that you've finally caved and are snogging Robbie!?"

"I really did mean to tell you, but…" protests Char. "It was nice having our own little secret for a while. We wouldn't have told Livvie if she hadn't figured it out on her own. We only just went public a few weeks ago and attended the Falcon's Mid-Season Break Party together."

"I hate being so out of the loop. Being so far away really has me missing out!" complains Dom as she shoves an eggroll in her mouth.

"Well, you can be the first to know that Robbie and I are officially moving in together." I nearly choke on my almond chicken.

"WHAT!?" I exclaim. Robbie has _not_ mentioned this. This is not a good idea!

"We've decided that it just makes more sense for me to officially move in here. I'm barely at home anyways, and with making things official, it seems like the right next step."

"Robbie didn't even ask me!" I protest. This is going to be a nightmare. How are we going to keep my being on the Falcons and he being on the Kestrels from Char with her _LIVING HERE_?

"I'm sure it just slipped his mind. It will be fun, the three of us," says Char, completely oblivious to the fact that my face surely says I'm not thrilled. Dom catches my eye, and I can tell she has picked up on the fact that I'm not completely over the moon to have my best friend move in with my brother and me.

"Well… I guess I should update you guys on my life," she laughs, changing the subject. "I've started seeing someone," she pauses, clearly drawing out the suspense. "He's an AMERICAN!" She giggles, and I wonder if I have _ever_ heard her giggle in all the years we were at Hogwarts.

"What's he like?" demands Char.

"Well, he's a few years older than us. He went to that American School, Ilvermorney. He's a naturalist working with our team, specializes in magical plants and animals. He's cousins with Auntie Luna's husband Rolf. His name is Henri Abernathy, and he's brilliant. And also, he's part French as well."

"Is he coming to meet the Weasley family for Christmas?" asks Char. "Can we meet him?"

"Well… actually… he doesn't know I'm a Weasley exactly," she says, a red flush covering her face.

"What?"

"Well. The whole curse breaker thing, is a bit of a front. I'm really working in the department of International Intelligence. I'm keeping an eye on things in Venezuela, and I get to work at the tombs as well. It's pretty awesome actually. But I am pretending to be French, and also, that my name is Monique Rosseau, but everyone calls me Nikki. It's just really hard lying to the wizard I'm falling in love with. He has no idea who I really am, or who my family is, which is great that they aren't scaring him away and intimidating him, but also sort of awful at the same time."

I can tell Dom is torn about lying to this new guy, and I can completely identify. "It's part of your job, and you can't break your cover. It isn't _really_ lying until you make the lie personal, only to him. If you are lying equally to everyone, it's not as personal. Plus, you aren't lying to him about who you are inside. You just have a secret. Everyone has secrets!"

"Maybe you can get clearance from your boss to tell the truth," suggest Char as she charms the lights on the tree to change colors.

"Or maybe you can just be as honest as you can for the time being. No sense in overcomplicating things. Two people can keep a secret," I say. "If one of them is dead. No sense endangering yourself at this point."

"That's how I feel. I would hate for the department to have to emergency evacuate me because I was stupid and blew my cover to a boyfriend. That's just the sort of thing that will get me accused of Weasley favoritism."

"Your secret will eventually come out, you know," says Char. "It's simply a matter of what kind of fallout you prefer, a personal or a professional one." Merlin she makes that sound ominous. I know she doesn't know about Robbie's and my double life, but she could be speaking to Dom or me. Hopefully she's wrong. She has to be. I don't really feel like going to jail.

After that, we switch to lighter topics. I carefully avoid work, and they seem to step carefully around the subject with me as well. No sense in having them make the same assumptions as mum. I would rather not lie more than I have to, so I'm happy to gossip with the girls, and having the flat decorated is a solid bonus.

I'm not thrilled to greet the somewhat inebriated Robbie when he gets home from drinking with his **Kestrel** teammates, but we need to talk.

"When were you going to tell me Char was moving in?" I ask from the couch as he flips on the light.

"How long have you been sitting in the dark waiting for me?" he asks, confused and obviously changing the subject.

"Answer the question Robert."

"Fine! I was going to tell you at dinner on Sunday. I thought I could drop it in casually, and you wouldn't be able to throw a fit in front of mum and dad."

"How do you think we are going to be able to keep _this_ a secret from Char!?" I demand gesturing between the two of us before I morph my face into his.

"Look, she leaves for work early, usually around half six. We don't even have to be at practice until nine! It will be fine!"

"You never think things through! There's all sorts of things that could go wrong. If she pays even the slightest bit of attention to the schedules she's sure to notice your games aren't when they are supposed to be, and what if she decides she wants to eat at the restaurant I've been working at?"

"Look, Livvie, it's going to be fine. You worry too much." Only I don't. And I'm worried this is going to blow our cover faster than you can say quidditch.

 **hope you enjoyed that nice long chapter! Your reviews requested more Katie Wood, so thanks for some inspiration for this chapter. Thanks so much for the reviews! I have been distracted lately so send me some inspiration. Christmas is wirtten but I need to get going on the chapter after that! Thanks for the reviews! E. Abbene**


	16. Chapter 16

**Hope you enjoy this next chapter! I loved writing it! Please review when you are done!**

Wednesday night and the highly anticipated Wood Family Dinner arrives quicker than I really wanted. You know how when you have a birthday or vacation coming up, time ticks by slower than the clock in history of magic, but when you have something like a dreaded exam or mouth healer appointment coming up, it's like someone flipped the days on the calendar and skipped one? That's what this feels like.

Finn, being the wonderful boyfriend he is, agreed to come without even blinking his eyes. He's naively excited to see my family. He quote, "Can't wait to see what Coach Wood thinks will happen in the playoffs." Yes, he wants to wrack my father's brains for quidditch intell, and isn't even worried about the fact that he's dating Oliver Wood's _only_ daughter. I haven't had the heart to break it to him that this isn't exactly going to be a quidditch game in the park.

Speaking of quidditch games in the park. I know I look ridiculous. I'm rather overdressed for a casual family dinner in a pair of formal dress robes more suited to a ministry cocktail party, but there's a reason. I do have a method to my madness. Firstly, I can't be expected to play quidditch after dinner if I'm dressed to the nines. Second, this might throw my mum for a bit of a loop considering I know that the ministry Christmas party was this afternoon. I attended with Dominique, but I may or may not have been careful to introduce myself around to several unspeakables. If I'm going to make a lie convincing, I might as well make sure it at least makes the pages of the Ministry Quarterly Bulletin if not Witch Weekly. I'm fairly certain I can get by with implying I was there and didn't have time to change before the Wood Family Dinner. Is it premature to start referring to it as the Wood Family Fiasco?

Finnegan picks me up at the apartment right on time. Robbie left to get Char just a few minutes ago. He has brought an expensive bottle of wine _and_ flowers. Maybe he's not afraid of my dad, but he must have realized he had an opportunity to bribe his way into mum's good graces.

We floo to mum and dad's. The house is in the country, part of a wizarding compound type community where several families purchased property close together, creating basically a village with no shops. There are about twelve families here, and all properties link up to a fairly large wizarding park where all the children played growing up. Our property also has the quidditch pitch and a pond, while the next house down the road was owned by the rather odd Scamanders. Beyond that is Dom's grandparent's house.

The house is big and Victorian style, with a wrap around front porch and a third story tower bedroom that was all mine. Davie had the larger attic bedroom to himself before he went to Hogwarts, but Robbie moved up there during the school year to get away from Quinn. Kenneth and Graeme have always shared a room, while poor Walt has been moved from room to room depending who is willing to tolerate the poor lad. With Robbie and I moved out, the Monsters finally had the opportunity to each have their own room. Quinn took my quiet tower and has filled it with books. Kenneth refused the attic, complaining he bumped his head to often on the low hanging eaves. So Walter has the entire attic to himself, which is quite the feat for an eight year old to have the largest bedroom in the house.

We floo into the formal living room, just off the dining room. Mum has made her family favorite Burrito Casserole as well as build your own tacos. Everyone will be thrilled about this, including mum because we will all eat plenty of veggies.

Mum's wearing jeans and a sweater, and as expected frowns at my overdressed state.

"Hello! I'm Katie Wood, Livvie's mum. I'm so glad to see you again, Mr. Finnegan." She greets him with an exuberant hug.

"Hi! I brought you some wine and flowers. Dinner smells wonderful! And please, call me Murphy," says Finn, presenting her with the blushing iris bouquet he had picked up in Diagon Alley.

"Oh, how thoughtful! My boys never bring me flowers," says mum, shooting a pointed look toward Robbie, who enters with Char on his arm. She too is still decked out in finery from the Christmas Party at the Ministry which suits my plan perfectly.

Mum calls the Monsters and Dad to the dining room. Dad has a guilty look on his face and I surmise that he was napping in the sunroom, his favorite thing to do in the afternoons if he's not on the pitch. The Monsters clamor into the Dining room, taking their seats, enthusiastic about the food, Quinn pausing to greet Char and ask her about her new job in the Department of International Magic Cooperation and Regulation.

Kenneth is just taking a seat when he shoots out of his chair to greet the late arrivals.

"Rolly Noli!" he exclaims, wrapping his arms around the diminutive figure that has arrived with Davie.

"Maggie!" shrieks mum in delight, hurrying to get a hug in as well. "We weren't expecting you. Let me conjure up get another chair."

"No mum, Noli is my guest for the evening," says Davie, following in behind. My eyes zero in the hand he settles on the small of her back, but mum is too busy pouting to notice.

"But you promised you would bring your new girlfriend," she scolds quietly. I purse my lips as I watch Maggie give Davie a sideways glance. Ohhh… things just got interesting.

Magnolia Russell, better known as Maggie, sometimes known as Rolly Noli, is a long time family friend. She's one of seven children to Dad's old coach and longtime friend Burt Russell. His wife Bonnie and mum are friends as well, and it was Mrs. Russell who convinced mum and dad to purchase Woodview when Kenny was born.

The Russells live across the creek, and their son Mikey has been best friends with Davie since they met in Little League when they both played for the Woodchucks. Davie plays right chase for Puddlemere while Mikey Russell plays Center Chase, and they are a fairly well oiled machine considering how long they have been playing together. If that team could just get a decent keeper and maybe a better seeker.

Back to Maggie. She's three years younger than Mikey and Davie, which makes her about five years older than me and Robbie. Growing up, the Wood Monsters spent our fair amount of time with the Russells. What else are two families, both obsessed with quidditch to do?

Our dads would take us to Puddlemere and give us free reign of the stadium while they spent hours in team meetings. We rode our brooms to the park together, and snuck into Mr. Weasley's shed to inspect his mysterious muggle things. Mary Russell used to sit us down in front of the chalkboard and pretend we were her students, it's no wonder she's training as an astronomy teacher at Hogwarts now. Mitch Russell led us on expeditions through the Brown's garden where we collected 'rare specimens'. Basically we terrorized the whole neighborhood.

Wood-Russell quidditch games are always epic. Except one little glitch. Maggie Russell despises quidditch. Well… that's not exactly true. What I should say is she hates flying. Maggie Russell has never been on a broom as long as I've known her. Hence the name Rolly Noli.

From what I've heard, it was Mr. Weasley who gave Maggie her bicycle, but I've never known her without it. Some of my earliest memories are riding my training broom to the playground with Davie, Robbie, and the Russells, with Rolly Noli following below on her bicycle.

That bicycle went everywhere the brooms went, including Puddlemere United Stadium where she did laps around the stadium on her bicycle while we played quidditch overhead. I was probably five or six when Davie dubbed her Rolly Noli after learning her full name was Magnolia May Russell. The name stuck, and poor Maggie was taunted for years for refusing to fly with a chant of 'Rolly Noli- Come play Goalie!'

"But mum…" Davie gives mum a look, causing her to look between the lovely Maggie with her auburn curls and her bright blue eyes, and my oldest brother several times before her mouth falls open into a perfect O.

"I didn't know he was going to spring this on you without a heads up," laughs Maggie uncomfortably before shooting a dark glance at Davie. Mum gives Maggie another hug as a grin bursts out on her face.

Dad must have caught onto all this because he apparently can't stop himself from blurting, "But you don't even like quidditch?" in a bewildered manner. Sometimes I've wondered, but I guess _this_ is where Robbie gets it from.

As we all settle in, the Monsters attack the food. I barely manage a spoonful of casserole on my plate before Kenny snatches it like a quaffle that's nearly through the left hoop. Meanwhile, mum is grilling Davie as to the seemingly shocking development between him and Maggie Russell. Char and Robbie are doing that awful thing where they completely zone out everyone around them, and I realize I'm not exactly sure what's happened to Finnegan. Glancing over, I note that dad's started up a conversation with him. Good. I'm sure they have plenty to talk about. Just what Finn wanted.

I helpfully whip out my wand and magic some casserole on Walt's plate before Quinn skips him over and start making a taco. Maybe if mum's busy grilling Davie, she won't have time to focus on me and Finn.

After dinner, it's Kenny who suggests quidditch. When Robbie seems reluctant to leave with Char as planned, I shoot him a glare and he reasserts that they really have to be going. Finn can never play with the real Robbie or it will be a dead giveaway that Robbie is not the same Wood who's been playing on the Falcon's all year.

I call off for myself with the excuse that I simply can't play in my dress robes. Maggie provides further fodder for my excuse as I volunteer to sit out and keep her company. We start a fire in the fire pit and set up our chairs to face the pitch. My dad being a complete fanatic had to have a regulation size pitch with lights so we could play after dark.

Mum divvies up the brooms, the newest and best going to the non-professionals, while Dad, Davie, and Finn are forced to choose from the most ancient models in the shed. Finn ends up on Dad's old cleansweep from his school days. I wonder how much he'll freak when I tell him the significance later tonight. We let Dad use his first professional broom, and Davie claims his first broom which was once mum's.

Finn and Kenny end up captaining the two teams (red vs. gold) since they are chosen to play keepers. It's not really fair to let dad keep considering he knows everyone's playing style so well and he could still play pro if he really wanted.

As the guest, Finn is given the first choice for a teammate. I'm not sure what is going through his mind, but he drafts dad, who is not a very good chaser considering three of his children play the position professionally. Kenny grins and calls for Davie to join the gold team. Solid decision, Davie is the best chaser on the field. When it's Finn's turn to pick, he makes his second fatal error of the night selecting Quinn over my mum. In all fairness, he doesn't know my mum is an amazing chaser who probably could have played professionally if she had wanted. She also doesn't know that having Davie and mum on the same team is considered such an advantage that they usually have to play two against three chasers.

Even Maggie laughs at the pick, already knowing that the red team is going to lose. Mum practically skips to her side to don the gold cloak, and Graeme groans when Finn selects him for the losing team. Walt grins at me before moving to join mum and Davie. Who said being picked last was a bad thing?

It doesn't take long for Finn to realize what a mistake he's made when he watches dad fumble the ball around the first time Quinn passes to him. In addition, mum and Davie have developed a strategy where they handle the quaffle between the two of them and use Walt as a human bludger.

Have I mentioned that pick up games with the entire family don't always have fouls? Since having professional players on your team can be such an advantage, anyone that isn't a professional is allowed to foul as blatantly as they like as long as no one falls off their broom. This can be a surprisingly effective advantage for eight year olds like Walt. The first thing he does is attach himself to the tail end of Finnegan's broom, slowing Finn comically. Finn tries to shake him off, but Walter is relentless, and Finnegan is dismayed when he learns it's a completely legitimate move in Wood Quidditch.

Mum and Davie completely demolish Dad, Quinn, and Graeme. It doesn't help that there isn't a regular chaser among them against two of the best chasers in the family. It also doesn't help that Kenny looks to be in good form tonight. Then again, he doesn't have an eight year old shaking the backend of his broom, tugging the twigs, kicking the handle, and being a general nuisance.

Maggie thinks the entire thing is hilarious, cheering on Davie's team wholeheartedly while sipping the hot cider she made for the two of us to enjoy while we watch. Between goals, we chat lightly about her job at the ministry and how her family is doing. Maggie was Head Girl and a Ravenclaw. She's completely genius, so what she's doing with my quidditch playing brother who took Muggle Studdies _and_ Care of Magical Creatures as NEWTs, I'm not sure. Although in all fairness, he did get an O on his NEWT for Potions. Maggie actually _is_ an unspeakable. The only think I know is that she specializes is ancient runes, arithmancy, and curse breaking. I'm just hoping mum doesn't ask her how often she sees me at work, because she might just blow my cover.

The first team to two hundred wins, and the poor red team barely has fifty points by the time mum lobs the 20th goal past Finn to win it for the Golden Gryffindors. Dad, who always expects nothing less than victory is immediately pouty and sure to sulk all night, especially with Kenny already lording the victory over him. My brothers can really be insufferable.

Davie swoops down and pulls Maggie into an exuberant kiss to celebrate the victory, causing some wolf whistles from my other brothers and making Maggie blush. Finn seems to take it all in stride, laughing that he didn't realize what 'cheaters' we all were and that he would be better prepared next time.

Happy to make our escape, Finn and I floo back to his place.

"Merlin! Your family is tough!" he laughs pouring himself a glass of water and downing it quickly. I help myself to a glass of wine, and he pours himself some firewhiskey before we head into the sitting room.

"Don't act like I didn't warn you!"

"Well I didn't realize your dad was going to grill me on 'my intentions' and 'proper treatment of his baby girl' through the entirety of dinner. You really could have helped a wizard out there."

"What!? I thought you were discussing quidditch prospects for the play offs!"

Finn shakes his head. "Not even close. Sure he threw in some quidditch allegories, probably to throw off you and your mum in case anyone was listening in. I think the words, 'If anything happens to my little girl because of you, Finnegan, I'll have your head crushed between two bludgers and a foul won't even be called.' It was pretty ominous."

"Oh Merlin. He's ridiculous! He likes you! He's probably just… being overprotective. You are the only guy I've ever brought home."

"And hopefully I'll be the last," mumbles Finn, nuzzling my neck and making me laugh. "But in all seriousness… you're dad is a scarier dude than I remember. I thought maybe picking him for quidditch would help me earn my way into his good graces."

"I wondered why you did that! I guess I should have warned you that dad isn't a very great chaser."

"Well losing so dismally probably didn't help his impression of me either. If that little monster hadn't be hanging on the back of my broom the whole time…" Finn's expression is so dark, and the fact that he's referred to Walt fondly as a little monster makes me burst into a full belly laugh. He's just so adorable, I can't help the kiss I plant on his lips to cut him off.

"Well as long as you aren't embarrassed about my epic failure."

"I thought I might comfort your bruised ego a bit."

"Oh, I've got all kinds of bruises," Finn smirks, showing off that adorable dimple before pulling me in for another _Finntastic_ kiss.

 **Thanks for reading and reviewing! Hope you loved it! Everyone keeps wondering when the secret will be out, and I want you to know that chapter is written, but there might be a bit between then and now! Next up some Christmas Cheer- Wood family style! Thanks again!**


	17. Chapter 17

**MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY NEW YEAR! Thanks for reading and reviewing. Your reviews and continued interest are what keeps me writing nearly 10 years after my frist post on this site! ENJOY!**

Christmas Eve is a Wood only affair. I don't even mention bringing Finn, and Char's name doesn't even come up once. We all spend the night at Woodview the 23rd. Robbie and I kick Walt out of the attic, Davie bunks up with Graeme and Walt stays with Kenny. Only Quinn is lucky enough to room by himself, and we all know he snores. Every single Wood is up at the crack of dawn. Dad jokes every year that it's like an early morning practice at Hogwarts since mum is usually only half awake for the first hour or so.

Dad makes breakfast while mum mostly drinks coffee to wake up. When she's done, we make roll out Christmas cookies. Mum and I usually mix up the dough while Walter and Graeme have gotten very good at rolling out and cutting the various shapes. We always have the traditional stars, trees, bells, ornaments and candy canes, but a few years ago dad found some quidditch shaped cutters for mum that look like snitches, quaffles, and brooms, so we always make a few of those as well. Davie is surprisingly meticulous about transferring the cut outs to the cookie sheets, so he and Robbie are usually responsible for that while Quinn and Dad work on the frosting. Kenny keeps watch and ensures that each batch is baked to perfection.

By the time we have six or seven dozen cookies cooling on the racks, it's usually about lunchtime. After lunch is the annual Wood Family Christmas Eve Match. Dad keeps for the Red Team with Me, and Robbie chasing and Graeme beating. Kenny keeps while Mum and Davie chase and Walt beats. Quinn is the seeker, and when he finds the snitch the game is over. These teams used to be pretty fair, but I'm wondering if we should switch things up this year. Robbie and I are both professionals now, and I'm not sure it's really fair anymore.

Surprisingly it's dad who suggests switching up the teams, citing the fact that he recently got to see mum and Davie in action against Finn which is an unfair scouting advantage. We all agree to change up and the game begins.

Let's just say it was a year for the record books. Mum and Davie are a well oiled machine. They have always had a special bond considering he's the oldest, and is actually her brother. She spent hours training with him when we were too young to fly and dad was at work. They have plays that they have been running together for twenty years, and sometimes I think they must practice to get some of their timing and signals down so perfectly.

Robbie and I may be pros, but we haven't played together since early this summer. We are both professionals, and we have the twin thing going for us though. While our timing and ability to coordinate is a little rusty at first, it's a bit like riding a broom playing with my brother. It seems to come back pretty quickly.

Walt isn't the best beater, and neither is Graeme, but it keeps the game interesting to have a live bludger, and it's great practice for the boys who basically spend the match knocking it back and forth with surprising accuracy. They tend to get in our way more than ever, a sign that my littlest bothers aren't so little anymore.

It's dad who picks up on how improved I am first. He can't seem to believe I haven't been playing much, so I lie and say I joined a pick up league this fall for fun. I can tell Davie is frustrated with my improvement as well, because I manage to steal the ball from him quite a bit. Mum just laughs and cobs me in the side with those pointy elbows of hers when Quinn, who doubles as referee, isn't looking. She manages to steal one off me, because somehow I can't manage to foul my own mother.

My dad, I don't exactly have the same problem with, so I blatantly stooge him the next time Robbie has the quaffle, and we gain another ten points.

The score is a very competitive 320 to 290 when Quinn catches the snitch, breaking a four year run where mum and Davie have been the winning chasers. Walt is over the moon on his first Christmas Eve win, as we aren't allowed to play until we are five. He's been a bit of a handicap the past few years, especially last year when he knocked Dad out with a bludger to the back of the head.

I think mum is almost pleased with the loss, partially since Walt is so clearly overjoyed, and partially I think because she can torment dad.

"Well, if we didn't have bad luck dad on the team, maybe we could have won," she sighs as we hand our brooms off to Kenny who will lovingly clean and polish each one before carefully hanging them in the shed. "Did anyone notice how he's lost five years running now?"

Dad pretends to pout as Walt laughs with the exuberance only an eight year old can maintain before he swoops Walt over his shoulder and runs for the house. There's a twinkle in his eye, and I don't miss the sticking charm he shoots at mum.

"Last one to the house has to clean the kitchen!" he calls over his shoulder, spurring Robbie and I to race after him and Quinn.

Mum is last back to the kitchen, since we all know Kenny already had broom duty. She pretends to huff about it a bit while we wash up, but we all know she was going to clean the kitchen anyways. Like she would let one of us try to live up to her standards before Nana Wood came over tomorrow for Christmas.

We soon have the large batch of frosting divided up into bowls and all of us have knives in hand by the time Kenny is back and washed up.

"Now I absolutely won't tolerate anything inappropriate this year," says mum as she sets out some of the extras for this year. "And I'm looking right at you, Oliver Wood." I notice she doesn't specify which one and looks directly at both of them. I hold in my childish giggle and opt for turning my hair red and green, causing Walt to giggle instead.

"I promise, Kates," professes dad, putting a hand over his heart like he means it. We all know this is a lie. Dad always manages to make some sort of inappropriate joke, and I do have six brothers. Mum is shockingly optimistic every year though.

Wallie wants 'gryffindor red' frosting, and I help him mix the perfect color, before making some Christmas tree green for myself. I always have to frost at least a few trees, they are my favorite. Davie mixes us up some gold since he always starts with the bells, and dad's already made some Puddlemere blue. Wallie and I love sprinkles, so we grab an assortment and start the painstaking process of placing them exactly where we like. Kenny is more of a colored sugar fan, and he tends to make some surprisingly artistic patterns on his cookies.

If the media ever caught wind of Wood Family Christmas Eve, I'm sure they wouldn't be surprised about the quidditch, but I'm not sure what they would make of Oliver Wood and his six sons sitting down and spending three hours decorating Christmas cookies. It's always fun to see who comes up with the best cookie (mum's the judge and somehow no one has ever won back to back years and we've all won at least once). I'm fairly certain Graeme is due for a win this year, and with his loss in the family quidditch game, I think he deserves it. I help him out by charming some shiny round mini chocoballs to flash different colors and suggesting he use them on a tree he's been working on diligently using long red sprinkles to create a garland that wraps around the tree and a yellow star he piped himself. I'm not sure how the sprinkles will taste, but they sure look pretty.

We tune the wireless to some Christmas carols, and we all sing along to our favorites, with Dad pulling mum up to dance whenever a Celestina Warbeck song comes on. I eat more than my fair share of cookies, and laugh when dad frosts a cookie to look exactly like the toilets you use to flush yourself into the ministry. Mum pretends to scold him while he protests he's 'just trying to support me getting a _shitty_ desk job at the Ministry.'

It goes to hell in a handbasket from there when Quinn accuses Kenny of his ornaments looking like 'lopsided tits' prompting Kenny to hold them to his chest and squeak out in a high pitched voice that 'they aren't lopsided!'

Mum shuts it down shortly after, kicking everyone out of the kitchen so she can begin judging* (read cleaning up and getting us out of her hair). We all scurry upstairs to our respective rooms to finish any last minute wrapping.

Since Robbie and I pretty much know what we each got everyone, and we already wrapped it all yesterday, we lie on the twin beds and chat while casually tossing a quaffle. Davie joins us not long after when Graeme kicks him out so he 'doesn't peek!' Conversation as always turns to quidditch. I do my best morphing impression of each of the players we discuss, causing Davie and Robbie to laugh so loud, we soon have Kenny and Quinn crowding the two beds as well. By the time mum calls us for dinner, all seven of us are tucked in the attic while I do my best Gretchen Winners impersonation while Kenny provides the vocals. I swear, nothing beats Wood Family Christmas Eve.

* * *

Wood Family Christmas involves Nana and Grandpa Wood coming from Woodhurst at the crack of dawn. We always have brunch after presents and then dinner sometime later in the afternoon. It's not uncommon to play a pick up game of quidditch, but mum never joins in, and we never have a live bludger. In the evening, we tend to try out our gifts or play a board game while munching on leftovers. This year however, I've made plans for Finnegan to come over.

I'm a little nervous for him to come, but it's just for cookies and leftovers. He spent the last two days in Ireland with his parents, so I'm excited to see him as well. I'm pretty excited about my gift. Dad only ever played three seasons for Scotland in the World Cup, and World Cup Jerseys are pretty rare. I managed to hunt one down and have dad sign it which is a pretty awesome gift considering I know Finn has always been a fan.

I'm pleased when he insists on wearing the jersey for the rest of the night 'if only to feel like I belong among all these Woods.' To be fair it does have O. Wood across the shoulders, and I would be lying if I hadn't thought about the fact that it's more than a little possessive of me to pretend I'm simply claiming him as mine. It has my name on it, therefore it is mine.

I'm shocked when I'm presented with a small box. It's wrapped in red and white striped candy cane paper, and smaller than the palm of my hand. I glance at mum and see that she's looking a little surprised as if she too is wondering if it's a ring, but I _know_ it's too soon for something like that. Although, it does make me wonder what I would say if it was.

Cracking the lid of the box, I reveal a pair of ruby earrings. They have been cut by a master jewler into perfect little quaffles, each facet of the stone matching the ridges and seams of a quaffle and nearly identical in color. I feel my jaw drop at such a perfect gift.

"These must have cost a fortune," I say noting the name of the part goblin jewler on the inside of the box lid.

"They made me think of you and smile."

"Let's see!" says mum, clearly wanting to see what was in the box. I put on a bit of a show fixing them in my ears and pulling my hair back for everyone to see before pressing a kiss to my boyfriend's mouth. I can hear Walter and Graeme making gagging noises in the background, but I don't really care. Eventually dad clears his throat, and I pull away, but I want Finn to know that I really do love the earrings. In a family of so many boys, I love the rare occasion where I get to enjoy something feminine and pretty.

Finnegan is seriously impressed with our Christmas cookies, and I'm also secretly pleased when the first one he selects is one of my adorable little ornaments. Okay, so I piped his name on it! He's very good at eating Christmas Wood Family Christmas cookies, always doing a good job to appreciate the design and ask who made it before taking the first bite. We didn't even have to tell him how it's done. He's just naturally appreciative of artistic genius* (read sprinkles and sugar and colored buttercream frosting)

Quinn has organized a gobstones tournament, and the entire family is forced to participate, including Char and Maggie who show up late in the afternoon as well. Quinn's actually quite the fan, so it's pretty surprising when it's down to him and Finn for the championship. Maggie knocked me out pretty early on, and Graeme surprisingly beat mum in the second round. Mum's pretty outstanding at gobstones, so this was quite the surprise.

Finn ends up with a face full of goo, but Quinn is the current vice-president of the Gobstones club, even if he is only a third year. I might have mentioned before, the kid loves strategy. I use the excuse of Finn wanting to head home and clean up to leave. I've promised Finn we would spend boxing day with his parents in Ireland, so we'll be getting up early tomorrow.

I wish everyone a merry Christmas, even granddad who is asleep in his chair before heading out. This just might have been our best Christmas yet. I won the quidditch match and mum also awarded Graeme and I the first ever Co-Christmas Cookie Contest Champions for our Christmas tree with the color changing mini chocoballs on it. Per Contest rules, granddad ate it this morning before we opened presents and pronounced it absolutely delicious. I'm not sure it's a rule that he says it's the best cookie he's ever tasted, but it seems like he repeats it every year.

My overnight bag packed with all the gifts from my family, Finn and I floo to his place. Hopefully tomorrow is just as successful. This will be my first time meeting his family after all.

* * *

Waking up the morning after Christmas is always a bit like being hungover. Wood Family Christmas is always exhausting, so I'm hoping Finnegan Family Christmas isn't quite as involved. Finnegan let me know it should just be his parents and his Móraí. I manage to brush my hair into a semblance of order. I'm still not sure what Finnegan does to it while I sleep, but it's nearly impossible to fix. I've opted for a very feminine and traditional twin set and skirt to meet his family. The cashmere cardigan is soft and green, which I know will look well with my eyes, and the lace edged camisole underneath is comfortable and delicate looking. I pair it with a grey pleated skirt and a pair of charcoal kitten heels. With Finnegan around, I will still look small and delicate, the perfect girlfriend impression. Plus, if Finnegan is anything to go off of, his family are all probably giants.

I convince Finn that the charcoal slacks go better with his red Christmas sweater and am secretly pleased that we look very much like a matching couple. With me in green, and him in red, we suit the holiday. We bundle up in our coats and gather up the presents for his family. We apparate to Glengarriff hand in hand. It's a quaint little village, a recent snow turning the entire place into a fairy world with powder dusted roofs and glittering ice trees. Christmas sleepiness still hangs in the air, barely any tracks on the road. Our crack of apparation into the churchyard is loud and startles a small flock of birds from a nearby tree, but we are sheltered in the middle of a few large Christmas trees.

Tucking my gloved hand into his arm, Finn leads me out into the village, passing mostly closed tourist looking type shops. A local pub, and a coffeehouse, a florist. We pass through the small village and see nary a soul along the way. My feet are starting to numb, and my stockings are damp by the time we've walked to the outskirts of town, where the houses begin to separate and eventually come to a small property. The charming white cottage style home. The roof has three dormers with windows looking out, each with a bright blue flower box and shutters to match. Finn leads me to the front door, a bright scarlet with a charming holly wreath on it. There are candles in every window proclaiming the season, and I feel welcome from the moment Finn's father opens the door with a wide smile.

"Back already?" laughs the sandy haired man in the doorway. "Always knew you could smell your mum making donuts a country away! Merry Christmas! Come in!" His mischevious eyes are the same blue as Finn's, but they don't look much alike to be honest. Mr. Finnegan is perhaps the same height as me, perhaps even shorter than me with my kitten heels. His features are soft and don't have the ruggedness that Finn's do, but yes, the eyes are the same, and maybe a bit of the smile.

"Mum made donuts?" asks Finn in Gaelic, his voice sounding boyish.

"Of course she did, you langer! Now don't be rude, introduce your lady, son!"

"Livvie, meet my da, Seamus," laughs Finn, pushing me forward. I awkwardly stick out my still gloved hand and manage a "Nice to meet you, Merry Christmas," in Gaelic before I'm completely engulfed in a hug.

"You didn't tell me she was an Irish Lass!" laughs Seamus as he kisses me on both cheeks, helping me out of my coat.

"Half Irish actually," I manage to get out as he stows my coat in the cupboard and Finnegan pulls me deeper into the house. The entry is small and cramped, especially with Finn and I taking up more than our fair share of space. Finn actually has to duck his head under the copious amount of garland to make his way into the kitchen where a completely delightful smell is calling our names.

"Dumpling!" exclaims the tiniest Asian woman I have ever seen as she rushes across the room to engulf Murphy in a bear hug before she smoothes the wrinkles in his shirt and pats him down like an inspector.

"Mum, you saw me yesterday. You are acting like I've been gone for months."

"It feels like months sometimes. You are early! The donuts are not done yet!" she wags her finger at him. "Now, you must be Olivia! My you are tall!"

I blush as I realize this has to be the first thing this woman realizes about me. She might be five foot, but I think that might be pushing my estimation. She's incredibly short, and her dark eyes are pinched as she looks me over.

"You are too skinny. Let's get you some donuts." She takes my hand and drags me across the kitchen to her very modern looking kitchen. She puts a plate in my hands and immediately fishes out some freshly fried donuts before coating them in a mix of sugar in the pan next to her. She plops it on my plate with a dollop of red sauce and gestures for me to eat. It's piping hot but one of the most delicious things I've ever eaten. I want to moan in appreciation, but somehow I don't think that would be appropriate.

"Delicious!" I compliment, her cheeks flush as she smiles back at me. She plops two more on my plate and pushes me toward the table. For as small as she is, she certainly takes control of things.

Murphy nicks one of the fresh donuts and swipes it through the sauce before stuffing the entire thing in his mouth. His look of contentment makes me want to laugh.

"I didn't expect you until at least ten. Did you have an okay trip here?" his mum asks.

"We apparated, and then walked from town," I say, waving my wand to dry my stockings which are still wet and cold from the walk.

"Ohh… apparation makes me sick. I much prefer porkkey."

"It's a port-key, mum," laughs Murphy and I have the impression she's making a joke.

"Yes, of course, dumpling." She waves her hands and turns back to her donuts. Murphy shakes his head, and I notice his ears are red.

Her back is turned so I lean over and nip one of them. "I might have to start calling you that," I whisper, causing him to laugh and drag me into his lap as he steals the last donut.

"Finn!" I protest as the entire thing disappears in his mouth. He gives me a satisfied smirk as he chews.

"Stop being a piglet! I made these for Olivia!" his mum scolds, and brings us some more donuts as Seamus returns.

"I see you've discovered Iris's donuts!" exclaims Seamus snagging my old chair and taking a donut off the plate.

"They are delicious!" I reply.

"Glad you agree with the rest of us! So thought we might play some board games!"

"Mum loves board games," laughs Finn.

"She found a new one," replies Seamus.

We all sit down with our plates of donuts and soon, we are all engrossed in collecting these jewels so that we can buy the proper cards. The game isn't hard, but I'm honestly not very good at it. Finn has never played either, and his competitive nature has come out and I can tell he wants to win. Mr. and Mrs. Finnegan seem to enjoy bickering about the game more than the actual game. Every time Seamus makes a move, Iris smirks or tuts as if it's the wrong one, and Seamus gets into an argument about what his strategy should be. It's quite amusing, their back and forth. It's obvious that they are affectionate with each other, but it's hard to see much of my quiet Finn in either of them. It's his dad's twinkling eyes, and his mum's mischievous strategic mind and competitive nature. The gleeful look on her face when she beats us all is the same one he has when he has a particularly good save in quidditch.

After a few quick games, one of which Finn manages to win, we start getting ready for lunch. By this time, Iris as shared that she is in fact a muggle, so we prepare all the food without magic. It's odd how I don't even notice using magic on a daily basis, but seeing Finn's mum simply stirring without the aid of her wand seems foreign. Finn and his dad set the table while we cook and then watch VT in the other room. It's loud and apparently making them angry, since they keep shouting. Iris and I manage an interesting discussion on how Finn and I met, after which she explains how she and Mr. Finnegan met. Apparently, after the Second Wizarding War, there were quite a few fugitive death eaters in Ireland. The Irish ministry decided to work closely with the Irish Garda Síochána in order to track down some of the death eaters the muggle way. Seamus worked in the Muggle Relations department and she worked for the Garda in Dublin as an information technology specialist. She claimed it was love at first sight for him, but he had to grow on her a bit before she came around. It wasn't until they were married that she even knew he was a wizard.

This opens the door for a few more questions, and suddenly the entire story of Finn's adoption is revealed. Seamus is Finn's biological first cousin, once removed. Seamus's cousin Fergus Murphy was a Magical Law Enforcement Officer in Dublin following the first wizarding war. About six months after the war, he was killed on a mission. His pregnant girlfriend Alison Denbright gave birth to a very premature Finn four days later and died in the process. The newly married Finnegans had adopted the orphaned baby, and here they were over twenty years later. Iris pulled out a picture of Finnegan as a newborn, Seamus with a proud look on his face, and a look of pure joy on hers. She also had a lovely framed picture of Finn's biological parents, a very tall sandy haired man with Finn's eyes and nose, and a tall auburn haired woman with his dimpled smile.

"And that's how I got my dumpling," sighs Iris running her finger over the framed baby picture. "He's the best thing that ever happened to me." I'm shell shocked to hear Finn's history. He's never said a word. I feel a little hurt that he didn't feel the need to share any of this with me.

"He's pretty great," I agree, trying to appear unaffected by the fact that Finn apparently doesn't tell me anything about himself. I share a conspiratorial wink with the woman as we put the finishing touches on lunch, but I don't miss the sad look she sends me as I turn my back. Her reflection in the toaster says it all.

"How many siblings do you have? Finn mentioned you have a twin brother he plays quidditch with."

"Six," I say absently before turning to find her with her mouth hanging open.

"Goodness, what a big family! You'll fit right in tonight when we go over to see Móraí. All the cousins will be there."

I gulp. Finn never said anything besides meeting his parents and his gran.

We head to Finn's Móraí's house after lunch and sure enough there is a huge wizarding family there to greet us. He has at least eight cousins, all close in age to us, only a few years older, but most of them were Hufflepuffs and I've never met them. The Murphy Clan is big and loud, much like the Woods.

I'm lucky I had the excuse of wearing a skirt not to play quidditch, and several of the boys are bundled up in the backyard playing some version where Finn gets five points for every goal he saves and he and one cousin are against the other five. I'm intrigued by the rules and watch from the window while the Aunts drink coffees and gossip.

They must not realize I speak Gaelic as they discuss me and Finn right in front of me, wondering how serious we are and if I can really be dating their quidditch crazy nephew if I'm not playing quidditch right now. The red headed one brings up that Finn didn't even tell me about his adoption and his biological parents. They all click their tongues, tutting like a clutch of chickens and shooting me pitying glances out of the corners of their eyes. One comments that I'm much to girlie for Finn, and I want to laugh. I'm not sure I've ever considered myself girlie in my life. They all click their tongues again and turn the conversation to a different nephew, one who just lost his job. Soon they are all clucking over something else.

There is lots of food at his Móraí's and we stuff ourselves with Christmas leftovers and I'm glad I didn't miss their boxing day celebrations. Toward the end of the night, Finn's cousins start a drinking game, and we all end up a little tipsy. Finn and I floo back to his apartment, it's connected directly to Mary Murphy's Floo, and Finn had a few too many rounds of whiskey to apparate us back.

"Why didn't you ever mention you were adopted?" I finally manage, when we are away from everyone. I've been seething about it all afternoon. Finn never seems to tell me anything about himself and I'm embarrassed that I didn't know. It was obvious to his mother that he hadn't shared it with me, and she must have told the Aunts as well. She had given me such a look of pity when she told me.

"It's never come up. My parents are my parents. I never met my biological parents, and I guess I never had to feel any sort of loss for them because my mum and da loved me just the same. Mum can't have children of her own, and I honestly think she's loved me a bit more for that. It's not something I really talk about with people. Heck, the marauders don't even know."

I'm in shock. His best friends don't even know he was raised by a cousin? "The marauders haven't met your parents?!"

"Well, mum really hates to travel, and we always spent the summers at the Potter's house. Besides,Teddy was an orphan, and I never wanted to make a big deal that I could have been too. I had a real mum and dad, whereas Teddy only had his gran and his godfather. I have always been incredibly lucky. There was no need to bring it up. I just don't feel like it's a big deal." He seems a little defensive, and I wonder if I should have even brought this up. We're both a little tipsy, and I don't want him to think I didn't like his family.

"It's not, I just thought you might have mentioned it. I really liked meeting your family, and I feel privileged you wanted me to spend the day with them. I guess I should realize you don't talk much, but honestly Finn, I learned more about your childhood from an hour with your mum than I've heard from you all month. You never told me that you went to quidditch camp in Switzerland every year since you were four!"

"Hey, not everyone had six brothers to play with!" laughs Finn. "Besides, mum and da lived in Dublin until I was twelve and da convinced mum to move and floo to work every day. She works for the Irish Ministry as a Muggle consultant, but insisted on driving to work for twelve years. Mum wanted me to go to the country for the summer. She wanted me to make magical friends since I wasn't meeting any wizarding children at muggle primary school the rest of the year. Mostly she just made me quidditch mad."

"Did you make any friends though?"

"I was so tall for my age, they always put me on a team with the kids three or four years older. I got good fast, but the older English kids weren't in my year at Hogwarts and half of us went to Durmstrang anyways. I know a few of the pros on the international circuit I keep in touch with."

"Maybe you can take me to an international game sometime," I laugh.

"So am I forgiven for my secrets regarding my parents?" Murphy seems embarrassed that he didn't even think this was something he needed to tell me and I have made such a big deal about it. I feel a little bad as well. Davie probably wouldn't bother telling anyone that mum isn't also his mum even though she would have had to have been twelve when she had him.

"Sorry for making you feel bad about not telling me. I was just so surprised! You let me wear heels!" I complain. "I figured your mum would be at least five seven!"

"Well I'm pretty sure that's basically the last of my secrets," laughs Finnegan. "Well I guess besides being an animagus, but it's not really a secret anymore since I've registered. I promise to keep you in the know from now on… no more big suprises, luv." He kisses me on the cheek and I feel like someone just dumped a gallon of cold water over me. Here I am making a big deal about him being private and secretive when I'm the one in the relationship with all the secrets. The big damaging ones.

 **Hope your holidays were as wonderful as Livvie and Finns. Thanks again for reading, and I would love to hear from you in a review. Based on the pairing, this fic doesnt get as much traffic or reviews, but I write my stories for the characters they need, not the ones the public might demand. I appreciate each and every one of you! Thanks! EA**


	18. Chapter 18

**Hope you enjoy this chapter! I didn't get to write as much over the holidays so I'm sorry for the delays! Thanks for reading and reviewing!**

Robbie and I eventually agree that Robbie Bellringer won't be able to attend the New Years Eve Gala the British League hosted every year. While attendance for players isn't mandatory, it is highly advised, and bonus checks are distributed to the players by most teams as an incentive to attend the highly publicized event. However, knowing that our parents, particularly one observant mum, will be in attendance, it would be best for them not to see me posing as Oliver Robert Wood, Rookie Falcon Chaser. So instead, Robbie is going as himself for once, which allows him to bring Char, and frees me to attend with Finn.

However, that means I have to go as myself, which means a new dress. Mum still has a framed photo of her and dad's first Gala, and to say that she hasn't spent a pretty galleon on dresses for these things would be a complete lie. I happen to know the bright gold dress she bought this summer for this year's gala cost more than the quarterly rent on my and Robbie's apartment… for the entire summer! That isn't even factoring in any tailoring or accessories, and I know dad always likes to get her some sort of fancy purse or bracelet. I have of course left the dress shopping to the last minute… and I do mean last minute, but luckily my misery has company.

"I can't believe Robbie would spring something like this on me this late in the game!" complains Char, holding up a bright red number that is very short.

"I'm sure it just slipped his mind," I protest, trying to be diplomatic. In reality, we only decided yesterday that we absolutely could not risk my attending as him. It's much too likely that mum or dad would want to come have a chat, and I would blow the whole charade.

"I can't believe you hadn't found a dress yet either though," she points out, unhelpfully. I happen to realize this reality, quite acutely. "It isn't as if you and Finn haven't been official for a while, now."

"You know me, never much of a shopper…" I hold up a shimmery black dress with rhinestones that seem to twinkle like stars woven into the fabric. It has higher neck in the front and multiple straps that fall over the shoulders, but it is completely backless. The length at least looks right, it was clearly made with a tall witch in mind.

"Perhaps green," says Char, holding up another short dress, this one with puffy sleeves that would probably reach her elbows. It's hideous, and I hide a laugh with a cough.

"Maybe… but you wouldn't want to deck yourself out in the colors of their rivals… I would steer clear of Harpy green."

"Uggh.. Purple it is!" she says, holding up a short, plum colored, velvet dress with a sweetheart neckline and a tight bodice. The black crinoline slip that goes under makes my legs itch thinking about it, but to each their own I suppose.

We head to the back to try them on, and thank Merlin, something fits for once. Each arm has three straps that meet at a rhinestone broach at the edge of my collarbone, the neckline of the gown a simple drape between them. My collarbone is on display, and from the front, the gown might be considered rather modest if it wasn't for how very tight the bodice it is until my hips where the skirt begins to softly flare and fall. The fabric is what makes it so very special, otherwise it might be considered a boring black gown. From the back is what makes it sexy though, completely exposing my entire back, which looks rather muscular and delicate at the same time. The fabric of the straps falls from the shoulders into a loose drape that leaves a delicate loop of fabric falling off the back of the dress, making me think of a Grecian painting. A delicate gold chain with a single glittering rhinestone decorated clasp holds the two sides together, dangling across my scapulas. The bottom edge of the back just barely covers my bum, making me wonder if I'll be able to manage wearing anything at all under this dress. And I _will_ be buying it. Just looking at myself over my shoulder in the mirror makes me tingle in anticipation of Finn's reaction. I know he's going to love it.

"Wow, you look fab, Livvie… like a total supermodel," pouts Char when we step out of the changing rooms to consult. "I look like garden gnome in a dollbaby dress in comparison!"

The dress she's chosen isn't exactly something I can see anyone wearing at the Gala. I have the advantage of having looked over the papers every year with my mum to help plan future outfits. "Perhaps something with some sequins? That might photograph well?"

We scour two more shops before we stumble across a dress with gold, black, and white sequins in an art deco design that suits Char to a tee. We decide to deck her out in long pearls and a feathered hairpiece and go for a twenties look that looks irresistible with her shoulder length hair in dark curls. My look is rather twenties as well, and I am glad that we will seem perhaps a bit coordinated for any pictures the media gets of us. Neither of us will look out of place or outlandish.

The dress was rather expensive, and if I wasn't making such an ungodly amount on my contract with the Falcons, I might never have purchased it, but as it is, I'll have to explain how I managed such an extravagant purchase.

Ultimately, Robbie and I decide to drop with mum that it was a gift from Robbie, which isn't exactly untrue, consider my salary is basically a gift from Robbie considering I couldn't have gotten the position without him.

* * *

The evening of the Gala, New Years Eve, is a rush to get ready with Char in the tiny bathroom at the apartment. We sent Robbie to Woodview to get ready, considering there simply wasn't room here. Eventually, I've managed to charm my hair into a loose bun at the base of my neck, slightly to one side with a few curls brushing my cheeks and a curl in my side swept fringe softening the look from the font. I tuck a few pins with rhinestones on them into my hair to hold it all together and add a bit of glimmer. A bright gold Phoenix fits around my upper arm, each feather decorated with rhinestones, giving the look a finishing touch.

I pull on my black cloak and slip my wand in my purse just as Finn arrives.

"You look… wow…" he stumbles over his words when I answer the door.

"And you haven't even seen what's under the cloak," I laugh, gesturing to the fact he can only really see my face and hair.

"You know… if you decided _not_ to wear anything under there, I wouldn't exactly be upset," he says quietly, his Irish brogue taking on a smokier than usual tone.

"Watch yourself Finnegan, or you just might not make it to the Gala…" snaps Robbie, arriving just behind him.

"Well… that would be the point…" agrees Finn as Robbie storms down the hall to collect Char, who I happen to know looks amazing in her black and gold and white dress.

"We had better get to the boats before you get any ideas," I laugh, slipping my arm in his and heading for the apparation point. The Gala is going to be at a castle in Southern Wales, and we are all to apparate to the boat house across the lake and take small boats to the gala, arriving in small groups so that the media can harass- I mean, interview- us on our way into the event.

Mum and dad are chatting with Davie and a devastatingly beautiful Noli when Finn and I arrive at the crowded boathouse. Noli's hair is a cascade of curls over her shoulders, and the low neckline of her bright red dress shows off curves I could only dream of. She looks amazing on Davie's arm, a smile on her red lips and her eyes bright. Mum's wearing a gold dress that makes one wonder how she managed to have six children, and is tucked into Dad's side, her still golden hair shining in the candle light.

While moments ago, I felt rather lovely, looking around the room, all the women seem to be brighter and bolder than me, their dresses flashes of color, that make me want to hide. Maybe black was a bad idea. Maybe I should have morphed myself a few inches shorter. Maybe I should have just gone as Robert Bellringer.

"Livvie!" exclaims Davie, bringing me to mum and dad's attention.

"Let me get your cloak, love," says Finn, reaching for my shoulders. I undo the clasp at the neck and allow him to shrink it into his pocket.

"Oh, Liv," gasps mum suddenly looking as if she wants to cry. "You look so beautiful!"

I wonder if maybe she's being a bit dramatic, and look over my shoulder to see Finn's eyes have somewhat glazed over. Perhaps I shouldn't have surprised him with the dress. He confessed he really has a thing for backless dresses after the team Mid-Season Break Party.

"Thanks, mum," I say with a smile, stepping forward and giving her a hug. "You look rather lovely yourself."

" _I_ think you should go home and put some real clothes on!" exclaims dad, as I turn my back to him. "You're going to catch a cold running around like that!"

"You look rather dashing yourself, dad!" I laugh.

"I'm not fishing for compliments! I don't need a hundred perverted wizards mooning over pictures of my daughter!"

"DAD!" I protest with a laugh at his completely outraged look and the look of concern passing over my boyfriend's face.

"You could have at least made yourself a little bit homely," he protests weakly. "Maybe a big wart on your nose or something?"

"I wanted to be a hundred percent me tonight," I say, with a tone of finality, hoping he'll drop the subject of my metamorphmagus abilities.

"And you're ever so lovely!" inserts Davie. "You look like the most beautiful sister in the world!" He shoots a wink at mom, and we both smile at the longstanding joke. I do look rather a lot like mum, and so he tries to get away with complimenting us both at the same time. It works for him. He's always had an overabundance of charm.

"I have to agree!" exclaims Robbie, arriving with Char on his arm, spurting another round of greetings. Eventually, Robbie, Char, Finn, and I end up in a boat with Jackson Fawley from the Cannons and his date. We drift across a starlit lake, and arrive at the glittering castle where the Gala is being held. Photographers are snapping pictures with reporters calling out to us from the moment the boat arrives at the dock.

I manage to slip into Finnegan's side, smiling gently and generally trying not to be caught with a look of surprise. The reporters are particularly interested in Robbie, asking him if he thinks he'll be a contender for Rookie of the Year, and asking Finn what sort of shot he thinks the Falcons have in the playoffs. Luckily, they think I am a nobody, or at least uninteresting enough that no one asks me any questions. At this point, I'm just an anonymous blonde bimbo on Finnegan's arm.

We ditch the media at the door, and mingle with some champagne and appetizers, Finn being bold enough to take an entire tray from a passing waiter and sharing it with our teammates. I'm glad to be with them, because I feel comfortable, even if they don't realize how well they know me. Char has dragged Robbie over to talk with Davie and Noli a few tables away, but for the most part, everyone sticks to their teams. In no time, we're sitting through speeches, and then dancing, the most pleasant part of the night where I get to spend it entirely in Finn's arms except for a brief interlude where my brothers and dad decide to pass me around for a song.

By midnight, when everyone is shooting off fireworks from their wands and pulling their dates in for kisses, I'm more than a little intoxicated, and not just by the taste of Murphy Finnegan on my lips.

"Happy New Year, Finnegan," I say against his lips as he dips me back and snogs me while magic flashes around us and the clock chimes.

"Happy New Year, Liv," he replies as the Harpies start up a chorus of Auld Lang Syne.

It isn't until I'm staring at a picture of Finn and I snogging among the revelers on the front page of Witch Weekly the next morning that I'm struck with the fact that I'm no longer some anonymous blond bimbo. In fact, everyone wants to know how Oliver Robert Wood's sister got together with his teammate. And everyone wants to know if this is a sign that my dad is trying to woo Finnegan back to United with his daughter. The speculation in the papers is ridiculous and offensive, but Finn seems to shrug it off. I just can't help but worry this is all horrible for my secret. All it is going to take is some idiot at the Kestrels realizing that Robbie Bellringer doesn't have a twin brother, but instead a twin sister. I'm not exactly sure how much longer Robbie and I are going to be able to pull this off.

Shooting him an owl, I'm a bit dismayed when he answers that he's 'not concerned in the least, and wasn't the picture of him on page three of quidditch quarterly rather flattering?' Glancing at the picture of Finn and I in the society section of the prophet where there are multiple pictures highlighted from the Gala, I can't stop myself from pulling out my wand and cutting it out. Finnigan is looking at the camera with a relaxed half smirk before he looks down at me with a genuine smile. I'm facing him, tucked into his side and saying something before I turn and look at the photographer, a smile on my face, just as he turns to look at me. With my backless gown on display, the effect of me looking over my shoulder is really flattering, and the way Finn is smiling down on me when I turn and smile for the camera is so perfect. I think I'll mail the prophet requesting a full size print.

"What are you doing?" asks Finn, stepping into the sitting room, a pair of steaming mugs of tea in his hands.

"Look how handsome you are! I'm going to request the prophet send me a full size color photo of us!"

Finn squints at the picture, tilting his head. "Yeah, you look okay I guess," he finally says.

"OKAY!?" I squawk, grabbing the paper back and looking at the photo. I don't always feel good about how I look, but I _know_ I looked good last night. "That dress cost me a fortune!" I blurt.

"Well… I'm just saying it looked better on my floor," Finnegan gives me a shit eating grin and I take my tea from him with a huff before stalking to the den where he keeps his owl.

"You aren't funny!" I call over my shoulder as I hear him snicker into his tea.

"I'm just saying, I rather like what you're wearing now!" he calls after me. Looking down at his worn practice jersey, I can't help but agree this is more comfortable. I know he rather likes that it has his name across the shoulders.

* * *

The Gala also signifies the end of the Mid-Season Break. Two days later, we return to practice, anticipating the announcement of the match ups for the second half of the season.

The second half of the season draw has taken place on January 7th at 7pm for the past ten years. The team has an official players meeting for it and we all crowd around the wireless in the training room listening as the commissioner announces the match ups. Somehow, my and Robbie's uncanny luck holds, and we don't draw Puddlemere, forcing another match up against dad and Davie. We also don't draw the Arrows, allowing for a sigh of relief, considering they are still ranked number one in the league.

We do draw the Kestrels for the first game back. I rub my hands together in anticipation. Robbie won't be getting one up on me again, and this is one rematch I'm excited to play. With all the scouting Finnegan and I did last season, we're sure to demolish them.

The first two weeks of practice back after the break are 'cold enough to freeze your balls off.' That's assuming I have balls, but thanks for the wonderful imagery, Rolland. I get home from practice, and just want to curl up with my blankets with Chinese take out. Unfortunately, I'm forced to pretend I'm not exhausted from six hours of practice on a broom in freezing cold Falmouth, and instead I have to deal with Char, my newest roommate.

She moved in just after New Years when her lease was up. I feel a little like I'm back at Hogwarts. She wants to stay up talking about the most recent gossip at the ministry, or the latest letter from Dom. She wants to paint our toenails after Robbie goes to bed early, claiming he needs rest before practice. I need _my_ rest too! If I didn't know Robbie was completely oblivious, I would think Char was his latest tactic to getting one up on me for the upcoming game against the Kestrels. Maybe if she deprives me of enough sleep I'll fall off my broom at practice and land on the injured list _before_ the game.

It isn't until Char pops back into the apartment three days before the game and catches me wearing my Falcon's uniform and looking a little too much like Robbie that I have to put my foot down.

"Oooh, don't you look sexy," she says, causing me to startle as I look up from lacing my boots. Realizing she's at the apartment at half eight, I look desperately down the hall and note that Robbie left ten minutes ago for Ireland.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, clearing my throat.

"I thought I would surprise you!" she exclaims. "I have that business meeting in France that I'll be going to in a few days, and since I'll be working the whole trip, Chang gave me the rest of today off after our conference floo. She wraps her arms around me, and I find I've back myself into a wall. "We have at least twenty minutes before you have to leave for practice," she murmurs in my ear before taking it between her teeth, causing me to break character and push her away.

"I can't do this anymore!" I exclaim, running a hand through my hair and stepping as far away as I can. I rub my ear with a cringe.

"What?" asks a bewildered Char, her eyes widening and filling with tears.

"Damn it Char! It wasn't supposed to be like this!" I exclaim.

"I'll… just… pack…" she's hysterically sobbing now. I want to scream in frustration. Where is my idiot brother when I need him? "I… thought… you… loved… me…"

"CHAR!" I shout, getting her attention. I quickly morph into myself, tangled hair and all, causing her to gasp mid-sob.

"Livvie!" she hiccups. "What are you doing?!"

"UGGH!" I exclaim, realizing that I'm going to have to tell all on this one. "Robbie signed two professional contracts…"

"Oh Merlin… you didn't!"

"I did! I mean… well what else was I going to do!?"

"Why did I ever agree to date him?" she asks herself aloud. I unfortunately don't have an answer for her considering I ask myself every day why Char finally gave in to my brother.

"He's sexy or something trite along those lines," I suggest. She nods and bites her lip guiltily.

"He is rather fit… Uggh! I'm sooo sorry Liv!" she suddenly seems to realize that five minutes ago she was coming onto me as my brother.

"Yeah… But… no one can know! Not only is this likely illegal, but we have to maintain this charade through the end of Robbie's contract with the Falcon's or he'll have to buy it out. The whole family will be laughed out of the league…"

"I just realized you've seen the Falcon's players starkers!" exclaims Char, the fangirl in her coming out again.

"MERLIN! Char! _Focus_! I just told you that I've been impersonating Robbie for the past six months and you can't tell _anyone_. This is important!" I'm starting to remember why I never confided things in Char back at Hogwarts. I tended to confide more in Dom… mostly because she's much less flighty and gossipy. I rub my temples.

"Okay… got it… Can't tell anyone that my bff has infiltrated the only all male quidditch team in the league… can you at least tell me if Jasper Hart has his nipples pierced?"

"He does _not_ have his nipples pierced…" I sigh. "Now what we really need is Robbie so we can have an unbreakable vow that you will not reveal our secret!" I stumble upon the idea rather by accident, but it is a rather ingenious solution.

"Godric Liv! It's not like this is some 'Voldemort has returned from the dead and only Harry Potter can save the world'-type secret. This is just a regular secret between friends. I can keep it to myself." She huffs as if offended. I bite my tongue to prevent insulting her and questioning if she _can_ keep it to herself.

"Look, Robbie's at practice with the Kenmare Kestrels, his real team right now. We'll have to talk it over when he gets home. You're the first person we've told."

"You mean you were forced to tell," she accuses, realizing suddenly that we've been keeping her out of the loop for months. "Robbie's been lying to me for months!"

"Look, we would tell you, but you know how hard it is to keep a secret when multiple people get involved? And it isn't as if I'm not lying to my family and my boyfriend daily. I'm the one living the double life here! Believe me, I didn't want to have to tell anyone, but I'm glad if someone found out it is you," I finally say trying to calm her.

"I guess I understand why you wanted to keep it a secret. And I guess I'm glad you told me, rather than break up with me as Robbie or something. Although Robbie will be doing some groveling tonight if he wants to keep his girlfriend." Her expression darkens.

"Thank you so much for understanding, but I really have to get to practice now!" I say taking Char in a tight hug before morphing into Robbie.

"It's creepy how good you are at that," she says looking me over.

"It's creepy how you're looking at me right now," I say in my normal voice.

"Ohh… right… uhhh sorry," she says making a face. "Can we just… yeah…"

"Later Char!" I say apparating to work. Rubbing my face, I wonder how much longer this charade can last. What's that saying? Two people can keep a secret… if one of them is dead. Well since Robbie and I are practically the same person, apparently Char is the second. Robbie and I are both so dead…

 **So I had to really feel this chapter out which is why it took so long! Hope you liked it! I've been distracted from this project with a stupid idea that won't leave my head, but I really wanted to focus and give you guys the chapter you deserved! Thanks for all the lovely reviews! I've got two more brain children in the works, but I promise I won't post any new stories until I finish this one. thanks again for reading! E.A.**


	19. Chapter 19

**Hi sorry for the delay! I've been busy making a baby blanket for a friend and I can't write and crochet at the same time! I've also been distracted with a side story I cannot get out of my head. I will start posting it after I finish this story. This chapter is short, but the next chapter should be fairly long, and only a few more after that that are already written. Believe it or not the end has been written the entire time. I just had to work out the in between. Thanks for the reviews and enjoy!**

The mini season after the mid-season break is fast paced, with two games per week starting the last week of January. I've never played in it before, but I'm sure that two games a week until the tournament starts at the end of February is sure to brutal. Especially since England is having one of the coldest winters on record. Practice conditions are awful, and game conditions are sure to be worse. If I hear one more reference to 'freezing our balls off,' I just might crack.

The Kestrel's game is the first game on the schedule, a Tuesday game. With the Pride on Sunday, that's the game I am more focused on. If I can stay in the game for an entire game against the Kestrels, I know we're going to smash Robbie's unfortunate team into little green smithereens.

"In all fairness, I think you should be rooting for me," I say, using my garlic toast to gesture at Char across the small table. "The world thinks Robbie is your boyfriend, _and_ don't you want to stick it to the man and root for secret girl power!?"

"Now Liv, she knows I'm technically a Kestrel now, so she could arguably root for me, since _I_ am her actual boyfried."

"Technicalities," I scoff. "Besides for appearances sake, she should be wearing Falcon's colors."

"How about I wear green underwear?" suggests Char in that flirtatious voice of hers.

"I did not need to hear that," I sigh, running a hand through my hair. "I'll just finish this in my room thanks," I say lifting my spaghetti and leaving the kitchen where our Italian dinner for three has just taken a turn for the romantic.

I finish my spaghetti and banish the dirty plate to the sink before sitting back on my bed. I idly review plays in my head and flip through my notes on the Kestrels while ignoring the anxiety about tomorrow's game. The first game back in a while and it's against Robbie. Luckily, I know mum will be working at the hospital, while Dad and Davie have a game against the Magpies around the same time.

* * *

The game is sporting actual snow. It's blowing and I'm sure it will make the quaffle hard to handle and see, while the snitch will become near impossible to find. I've got long underwear on under my uniform and I have a black turtleneck that is so high on my neck it nearly brushes the bottom of my ears. Unfortunately, my ears are destined to freeze so I can perhaps hear a little better through the wind. I'm not willing to risk not being able to hear an opponent or a bludger coming. My dragon leather gloves and boots are keeping my fingers and toes blissfully warm, so at least I don't have any complaints there.

Lining up across the pitch from Robbie, I give him a steely look and a discreet nod. I already told him I'm not going to be giving him any quarter over our Lucky Charms this morning. I even let him know I would be beating him to the toss. At the sound of the whistle, the red ball is shot into the air and I'm after it in a blink of an eye, outpacing Robbie to the ball with seconds to spare. Barrel rolling, I dodge his teammate and pass the ball neatly to Montague. Even with the swirling thick flakes of snow, I know where he's going to be without having to look. I wonder how the crowd can even see anything, but that's quidditch for you. Snatching the red ball as it comes to me, I slam it through the left hoop, deciding at the last minute to take the shot rather than pass. I'm going to demolish the Kestrels so badly, they will quake when they even _think_ my name. Resisting the urge to shoot a look of triumph toward Robbie, I instead intercept the pass from their keeper to him.

"Too slow!" I bellow before doing a loop-de-loop to dodge their beater who has flown directly in my path. I toss the ball up and Bork, who was flying right above me snatches it out of mid air, and we circle toward the hoops like vultures. No more fun and games. Winning is serious business.

By the end of the game, I've earned the new league record for steals. I was brutal in my abuse of my knowledge of Robbie's bad side, and he has a terrible time protecting himself against me since I can practically anticipate his next move. Relying on some of the knowledge I gained of him over the winter break, I use every legal move I know, and a few that might skirt the edges of the rulebook.

The score soars to a humiliating 780 to 240 before Jasper finally spots the snitch through the swirling snow. My team literally lifts me on their shoulders and carries me off the field while the Kestrels stomp off to get warm. Unfortunately I don't feel the least bit guilty for my take no prisoners attitude. If the circumstances had been different, I might not have kept the humiliation going until the end of the game, but I had something to prove. One, it was revenge for our last match up. And two, I couldn't exactly stop when I realized how close I was to breaking the record. And three… I couldn't exactly unhear the announcer's words of 'the top contender for Rookie of the Year.'

I'm still high on my victory when I apparate home to shower. By the time I step out, Robbie's home and from his sullen look, I can tell his team wasn't please with his giving up a record number of steals. I mean, they aren't exactly the Cannons.

"Hey," I say. "You going to mum and dad's?" I ask.

"I can't stomach faking the glow of victory. I owled that I was too cold and tired from my big game to come tonight."

"Yeah… _your_ big game…" I say with realization. Sometimes the worst thing about the whole double life thing is the fact he gets credit for everything.

"Well I guess at least the world doesn't realize how humiliating that game was for me. Dad won't have to laugh me out of the house…"

"That's not fair, Robbie!" I exclaim, realizing he's furious that I humiliated him, even if only to his team and under a fake name as well.

"What's not fair is _I_ was the one recruited for the pros this year! ME! The Cannons were _considering_ you for a _reserve_ position. _I_ was the one supposed to be playing on a top team this year!"

I take a step back before lashing out. "You're the one who wanted me to pretend to be you. You were the one who begged me to do this, and now you're mad at me for what? Being a better you than you are? I'm not going to apologize for working my arse off and putting the time and effort into making my team a good one. You don't get to be jealous about this! We both know that I've always been just as good as you. Half the reason you were recruited so much higher than me is I'm a girl! I'm constantly underestimated by the chauvinistic aseholes who run the league, and you're Oliver Wood Junior- so everyone automatically thinks you're the next dad! Well guess what, while we have equal amounts of talent, I work a hell of a lot harder than you do, which is what you need to step up if you want to be the next dad!"

The look of hurt and fury on Robbie's face almost makes me feel bad, but I can't let him win this. He doesn't work as hard as I do. He slacks off and parties more than I would ever consider smart. I don't know the last time he mentioned scouting a game, and he barely showed up to two of my games all season, only going to three Puddlemere games. He doesn't get to be jealous when I've earned my position on a top team in the league with my hard work. He doesn't get to put me down for not being recruited under my own name when I just made a league record tonight.

"You're right. I'm jealous!" he snaps back. "My team doesn't gel half as well as the Falcons. I can't seem to protect my left side for the life of me, and I don't have the brain for strategy and scouting out the other teams weaknesses that you do! I can barely watch a full match without being distracted. If I'm not playing, it just doesn't capture my full attention. I get distracted by the crowd, or caught up in the enthusiasm of the game rather than critically evaluating the play!"

"I've seen you protect your left side against teams other than me," I mutter, realizing he's close to tears of frustration. I hadn't realized how my success was affecting him.

"And you know the worst part!?" he says getting to his feet and pacing. "You're so bloody nice about it! I've hijacked your life, and literally broken you, and you still forgive me, but I can't seem to get over this fucking jealousy! You let me bask in your glory, and don't take any credit! I'm not a saint like you, Olivia!"

"I'll make it easier on you then," I say realizing that holding back my frustrations have made him feel even worse. "I'll clear out to Finn's for a couple days. We don't have a game until Sunday, and in that time, maybe you can work out some ways to feel a little better about the fact that you taking all my glory is FUCKING AWFUL. _If_ I win rookie of the year, whose name goes down in the record books for all eternity!? Who gets fawned over by mum and dad every week? Who is asked for autographs? Who does everyone think is a lowly ministry worker who can't even discuss her job?"

"You're right Livvie…"

"This is an impossible situation, and I think what we need right now is a little break from each other. I'll see you Sunday after my game at mum and dad's. Don't show up there until after the game ends."

"Yeah…"

* * *

I show up at Finn's with a duffle bag and he doesn't even ask, just pulls me in for a hug.

"Do I need to punch your brother at practice tomorrow?" he asks with a smile before kissing me.

"No," I laugh. "I'm just sick of seeing him and Char together at the apartment all lovey dovey, and after that game you guys had… whew… he's going to be unbearable."

"It really was something," ponders Finn. "I've never seen a rookie with such a grasp on league play, with an ability to analyze the strengths and weaknesses of other players so well. I mean he's a good player, but it's his encyclopedia of knowledge on the other teams down to the way their coaches select plays. I guess that comes with being the son of a coach in the league and having grown up watching so closely."

"Uggh… you give him too much credit as a mental powerhouse," I laugh, bending to pick up my bag and hide my blush. That's some pretty heavy praise from Finn.

"He's a quidditch genius. Sometimes he even frightens me. I'm glad we're on the same team."

"Me too," I laugh wrapping my arms around his broad shoulders and pulling him to my level. "Or I wouldn't have met you."

"Or maybe we were destined to meet either way," Finn suggests with a surprising note of romantic fantasy. He nips the side of my neck and runs his hand along my back.

"Maybe we should move _this_ meeting somewhere more private than the entry?" I suggest.

I'm lucky that Finn always leaves early for practice. He leaves me warm and cozy in his bed the next morning, his cute butt in his tight black quidditch trousers, the practice jersey stretched across his broad shoulders. He looks so handsome with his auburn hair swept off his forehead and a little mussed from sleep since he's too casual to brush it before practice.

"Feel free to stay there all day," he says with a wink before apparating out.

I count to ten before throwing back the covers and pulling the practice kit from the hidden pouch in my bag. I morph as I'm pulling up the trousers, my slender legs filling them out as my body expands, taking on my brother's form.

I check my face in the mirror and lace my boots before fumbling for my wand. Waving it, I make the bed and summon a protein bar from the kitchen. Finn always drinks a protein shake while coach goes over the practice agenda in the mornings, but I tried one and nearly gagged a few months back. I heard him making it this morning, but I honestly do not want to know what he puts in there. It's green and disgusting and looks like a potions experiment gone horribly wrong.

The rest of the week I bunk at Finn's and to be honest, it's relaxing and wonderful. After practice, I've been showering at my flat before changing into ministry type clothes and heading to his place. We've spent the evenings listening to quidditch games on the wireless and cooking dinner before reading or playing wizards chess together before bed. It's been completely wonderful, and a nice break from seeing Char and Robbie make out on the sofa every time I needed something from the kitchen.

One night we even watched a muggle movie. He has a VT and the movie we watch is about muggles discovering a mysterious planet where the blue people have a special language and live in a big tree. I don't understand half of it, but it's pretty and the animals in the movie are pretty interesting as well. It would be fairly interesting to morph into one of the blue people, challenging at least.

Afterward we make out on the couch like Robbie and Char always do, and I'm secretly pleased Finn doesn't have any roommates. Plus, his sofa is much bigger than ours, which considering how tall the both of us are makes it that much more comfortable.

* * *

I end up being invited to dinner Friday night with the maurauders. They were so popular and cool at Hogwarts, that it's still a little surreal whenever Finn and I hang out with them. Finn seems so normal, and quiet, but the mauraders are loud and rambunctious and suave. Things I would never really consider as labels for my boyfriend. But he fits in, making them all laugh with his laconic remarks. Their wives are all healers, which my mum being one means I can at least follow their conversation. I prod Victoire for news on Dominique who I haven't heard from in a few weeks. She manages to get a little from me about being a metamorphmagus while the boys are at the bar getting us drinks, but I drop the subject when Finn comes back, pulling me into his lap. I laugh along with the mauraders as they prank a table of businessmen across the room, their hair changing colors to match their shirts.

We end up going to the Arrows vs Kestrels game on Saturday with James Potter who has box seats. It's interesting seeing James, who I don't know well, but always seems so irreverent, talking quidditch strategy with Finn. They're serious and treat the game like a dissection, analyzing every move. It's easy to see why he made head boy and quidditch captain. I always sort of suspected that was based entirely on nepotism, but he's brilliant. Finn and I usually don't talk much during games, but their running commentary is enlightening to what's going on in that brain of his, and also provides some insight into his friendship with Potter. Kestrels lose, no surprise, but they do play better than the week before. The Arrows are just too good. I brought along my notebook and took furious notes the entire game, stealing some of Potter's better observations and ideas. Finn laughs to Potter that perhaps I'm the genius behind Robbie Wood. Little does he know.

* * *

It's not much of a surprise that our game against the Pride of Portree on Sunday goes swimmingly. They are a good team, but the Falcons are just better. The conditions are wonderful for late January, and the crowd is huge. I even spot mum and dad in the family box. I suppose that Robbie could be here in the crowd, disguised, but I think he's probably at home licking his wounds from the game against the Arrows. He took quite a few hits, and he doesn't like to lose.

When I get home after the game, still a little cold and muddy from the pitch, he's curled on the couch with Char, they are listening to the wireless and reading the Sunday paper.

"We listened to the game!" he says. "You played spendidly!"

"Thanks! You played well against the Arrows yesterday," I return.

"Not well enough to beat them, but at least they didn't slaughter us."

"You protected your left side better. Their left chase didn't do nearly the damage I did last week."

"That would be impossible to replicate…" he smirks. "But don't let it be said I didn't learn a thing or two from our match."

"Good to know I knocked a thing or two into that head of yours," I laugh. "Now I'll shower before we head to mum and dad's for Sunday Dinner. Finn's meeting us there."

Wednesday is the match against the Harpies. They are hoping for vengeance but we shut them down soundly. The rivalry win for the second time this year late in the season motivates us for our quick turn around game on Saturday against the Wasps. We squish them like the bugs they are, bringing us even more momentum going toward the post season. The Cannons on Tuesday are practically a joke, and our final challenge of the season against the Wingtown Warriors goes great… for the Falcons anyway.

I spend about half of my time at my flat, and other half at Finn's. It's quieter there, and I feel very relaxed with him. The only problem is making sure I can keep my secret, but he almost makes it easy going in early for warm up flights and such. It's hard to share so much of our lives together when I can't share the parts of it that aren't together as Livvie and Finn.

 **I promise not to wait an entire month to update again! I had someone review worried that I was abandoning the fic! Don't worry, I will continue to update! I've been posting here since like 2009 on my fics, sometimes my gaps are longer than others tho.** **Thanks again for reading and all the wonderful reviews!**

 **E.A.**


	20. Chapter 20

**Hi! Thanks for reading and reviewing! Enjoy!**

The British Quidditch League has a double elimination tournament that runs from the end of February through Mid April when the finals are played. The standings are based on the wins your team had in the first half of the year and in the mini season with each team being ranked with a combination of wins and number of points scored. Somehow, we end up in third position behind the Arrows and the Pride. I think our stats in the mini-season should have pushed us into the second position, but coach is delighted with our schedule.

We get the first round off, giving us some well deserved rest and an opportunity to watch the rest of the match ups which play one game every day for the first five days of the tournament. Coach gives us every afternoon off after some shorter morning practices so we'll be well rested going into the second round.

Finn and I make arrangements to attend every game as a couple.

The first game is the Bats against the Wingtown Warriors, a 10-7 match up. The game feels reminiscent of our first game together, and I can't help but remember him catching me laughing at Barney the Fruitbat. The player's box isn't nearly as empty as I would hope. I'm a nobody, but plenty of players from other teams are crowded into the seats taking notes on the competition. The entire Pride team is here, considering they will play the winner, and a couple of players from Kenmare and the Catapults, who are also in the top bracket. Rolland and Duncan are sitting on the other side of Finn, making lewd remarks about me and Finn and giggling like we can't hear.

I glare at them, my best Oliver Wood imitation scowl, and they sober up just in time for Montague and Gregor to settle in on the other side of me.

"Where's that brother of yours?" asks Montague, settling in and taking a handful of his giant bucket of popcorn.

"Yeah, practically the entire team is here!" exclaims Rolland. "Why did we get you instead?"

"I think he wanted to stay home and practice some right handed shooting."

"Awww, we worked on that at practice all last week!" protests Gregor. "It's so much more fun to watch the round one games!"

"In all honesty, Robbie isn't much of one for watching games he isn't playing in. It's not really his thing," I confess. "He's more of a do-er than a strategist."

"What about all his scouting reports all season!" protests Dougal.

"That's what Livvie here is for," laughs Finn, wrapping an arm around me and loudly smacking his lips against my cheek, making me blush. "She's the best damn scout in the entire league. We went to games together all season and she took notes for Wood. She's the genius behind Wood's insights."

"How much do you charge for your services?" asks Rolland with a wink, earning a glare from Finn. "No seriously… some of Wood's tip off's have been pure gold galleons!"

"You couldn't afford it," I snort.

"Try me!" protests Rolland, pulling out his wallet.

"Try three million a year," I quip back. The five Falcons sitting with me burst into laughter, but I smirk and flip open my notebook. That's actually what Robbie's paid me to impersonate him this year. And that was before I earned all those bonuses.

Considering how unlikely it is that we'll see these teams in round three, we analyze the game out loud, and I want to laugh when I notice a few of the Pride Players casually drifting our way to eavesdrop. "Finnegan's right, you are the genius behind Wood's insight's," announces Montague. "Have you ever considered coaching or going into some type of professional consulting?"

"I'd rather play," I laugh waving him off.

"But… you know you'd have a great chance at working in the league then?" asks Finnegan, who I think suspects that I don't like my fictional ministry job that I avoid talking about at all costs. "You could quit the ministry?"

"I love what I'm doing right now," I say. "And do you all _really_ want me joining the Harpies?"

"You could join the Falcon's support staff! You're practically an honorary Falcon anyways!" protests Gregor.

"Mhmm… but I couldn't exactly _play_ for the Falcons now could I?" I give him a look.

"Well…"

"You're much too gorgeous to play with these ugly bums," laughs Finn diffusing the awkward situation by pulling me in for a kiss as they all hoot and holler causing some confusion as the other players wonder what they've missed out on the pitch.

"Yourself included," I tease, when he finally pulls away, causing another round of laughter from my Falcons teammates.

* * *

The rest of the games pass in a similar fashion. The five falcons and I watch the games at the various stadiums from the player's box. We take serious notes at the games with the Harpies, the Magpies, and the Kestrels, teams we are more likely to see in later rounds. When Kenmare beats the Catapults, I am secretly happy for Robbie, but distressed knowing that he and I will be facing off in the next round. And this time it will be the Kestrels with a chip on their shoulder from the last time we played each other.

It's interesting seeing my teammates as my real self. We've interacted a few times at the team functions for the mid season break, and that time we went out to the nightclub, but I've barely talked to them. By the end of the week, I've found a new friend in Gregor, who is genuinely a nice guy, and have all sorts of inside jokes with Rolland and Duncan.

Finn, for the most part, seems pleased that I get on well with his teammates. Although, he has strongly vetoed Duncan's idea for a nude quidditch match. We tend to spend our evenings together going over my notes from the game and discussing serious predictions for the rest of the tournament.

The Round One results are hardly surprising. The Harpies, Wingtown, Kenmare, the Wasps, and the Magpies have all made it past the first round. Dad and Davie are in the loser's bracket, and dad's clearly already focused on next year. He's hoping to get the Hufflepuff Keeper right out of Hogwarts, which would be a bit of a coup-de-tat considering his father is pushing him toward a ministry position.

We have a family dinner, and I bring Finn along. Our game isn't until Tuesday, and we're playing Kenmare. Dad, Mum, and Davie are all thrilled to go to the game and see Robbie play for the Falcons. For once they will get to see him play considering he'll be on Kenmare, but they won't know it. Without the distraction of dad coaching his own team next week, I'm worried about Dad being there. As we eat mum's pizza casserole, I can't shrug off a bad feeling about this upcoming match.

* * *

Tuesday morning, I stare down my brother across our Lucky Charms. I can't help but wonder which of our teams will be in the loser's bracket tomorrow. The Falcon Five and I watched the Pride beat Wingtown last night, so one of us will be playing the Pride next week while the other one faces off with the winner of the Tornadoes-Cannons game set for Friday.

The noon game is windy and cold, but not near as cold as the last game where we faced off in that snowstorm. Once again, I beat my brother to the toss, snatching the first possession for my team. We're off, and I'm in the zone, flying with the wind and utilizing my speed to my full advantage.

I have to give Robbie an E for Effort, because he really has improved since our last match. I don't catch him cradling the ball loosely on his left side nearly as much as last time. My steals numbers don't come near the record, but I still manage quite a few. He's paying attention, but I'm aggressively fast getting my hands on the ball before he knows I'm there. Bork, Montague, and I capitalize on the scouting we did last week. I noticed their Keeper got nervous when the other team got especially close to the right side hoop and overprotected it, and we manage to utilize this weakness. This is great for me considering I get to rack up the points all game.

When Jasper catches the snitch, we all celebrate excitedly, but coach brings us back to earth with a post game lecture on how we'll be playing the Pride next week, and we'll be playing in Portree since they are ranked higher than us.

When I get home, Robbie and Char are both there with a congratulations cake for me. I'm touched considering the fact that Robbie got knocked into the losing bracket by my team, but I think he sort of expected it considering how well the Falcon's have been playing in the new year.

"Thanks," I say, wiping imaginary tears from my eyes, lofting my cake laden fork in the air with mock seriousness. "This means so much. I'd like to thank my family for being so supportive of me all these years, especially my dad who got me my first broom, and my brother who got me my first job. And my wonderful boyfriend who couldn't be with us tonight, but is here in spirit."

We giggle and gorge ourselves on cake before we head to mum and dad's for post game dinner. Mum's made Robbie's favorite to celebrate his team's victory, not realizing that this is really a consolation dinner for him. In all honesty, he does a great job of faking it, discussing the game with his arm wrapped around Char and a smile on his face.

Dad and mum are drinking their after dinner coffee when Dad's eyes zero in on me. "We looked for you at the game. Where were you?"

The way he's looking at me makes me wonder what he's thinking and has me more than a little nervous. "I was so nervous with Finn and Robbie in the air, I couldn't sit in the family box. I sat with some of Finn's friends and they took my mind off the game."

"The Potter boy?" asks Dad nodding. "He's friends with Harry's son isn't he."

"That's right. They're good friends."

"Well you should ask him to sit with us in the family box next match. We missed your insightful commentary. I'd like to know what you thought of the game as it was happening," complains dad. "Your mum is great to watch quidditch with, don't get me wrong, but she doesn't have that coach's mind like you do."

"Hey! I'm a healer," protests mum as she clears away the dishes.

"And you're so very good at it, luv," mollifies dad, pulling her into his lap and nuzzling her neck.

"Uggh…" I complain looking away to find an Owl at the window. Hurrying over I see a letter from Finn inviting us out to celebrate the victory with the team. Robbie and Char look ready to go with mum and dad being so disgusting, so it's unanimous. We head out to celebrate the victory, and I try not to think too hard on why dad was so curious about my whereabouts during the game. It's just that it felt more like an interrogation of the accused than curiosity.

Shaking it off, I fling myself into Finn's arms and press kisses to his face as soon as we arrive at the Hog's Head where the team has gathered to celebrate. "You're my number one favorite Keeper," I tell him with a grin. "You did amazing today!"

"Ahead of your dad?" he asks with a raised eyebrow. "I'm a lucky man."

"Dad's retired," I return with a wink.

* * *

The rest of the week, practices are pretty easy. We don't play again until the end of next week since the teams in the loser's bracket have to face off before our next match. Instead, coach informs us that we're to be at or at least listening to as many games as possible. Robbie manages to make appearances in the player's box enough to prove to the team that he's at least making an effort, but Finn and I attend every game together, the rest of the team joining us too. I see coach in the coach's box at least once, and I'm sure he's analyzing the game with the other coaches.

I take a plethora of notes at the Arrows game, making sure to point out the way their left side beater gives away who his target is by looking over his shoulder when they get behind him. Despite the few weaknesses I can spot in their play, they still annihilate the Wasps. The only upset is the Magpies, knocking out the Harpies, and I can't say I'm disappointed. They _are_ the Falcons' primary rival. _And_ they didn't offer me a spot on their team and I'm still a little bitter about that.

Loser's bracket play starts Friday, and goes until the following Wednesday. By the end of it, Puddlemere, Cannons, Bats, and Catapults are all out completely. Davie pretends he doesn't mind, but I know he and Dad are already roaring to come back next season with a better Keeper so they have a chance.

Week three, we play Pride of Portree in Portree on Friday night. It's a big game, and the fact we win by 340 points has our crowd roaring. It's the biggest blow out the playoffs have seen in a while, especially considering that the Pride was ranked ahead of us. I admit, it can probably be at least partially attributed to the last minute substitution of one of their chasers with a reserve, but apparently their first string right chase was so sick she could barely get her gear on, let alone fly her broom.

With the Pride solidly in the loser's bracket, we're headed into the semifinal game undefeated, which means the Arrows would have to beat us into the loser's bracket where we would still have a second chance at the trophy if we were to lose. However, by the time we're in the locker room, Coach is already discussing how we need to knock the Arrows into the loser's bracket so we have a week to recover between games and beat them again.

I apparate home after the game feeling positively gleeful, finding Robbie on the couch looking white as a sheet as I transfigure myself back to normal, shaking out my long hair. I lift my hand for a high-five.

"Hey, we made it to the semi! Didn't you hear us on the wireless?" I ask with a frown.

"Yes, we did," comes dad's deep voice from the kitchen.

"What are you doing here?" I gasp, realizing that I'm still wearing my Falcon's uniform and Robbie is currently on the sofa, unshaven and unshowered in his pajamas.

"I watched the first half of the game, didn't see _you_ anywhere, and followed my nose here. I wanted to check something, and sure enough, here's Robbie, sitting on the couch, eating take out, listening to the wireless."

"I can explain," I manage.

"No need… your brother already told me everything."

"Everything?" I whisper.

"Everything," confirms Robbie with a grimace. "He threatened to tell mum."

I sink down on the sofa next to Robbie, while dad has taken to pacing the room. He's wearing Falcon's colors, so I am guessing he came from the game. He finally speaks. "I suspected last week, when I watched you play Kenmare. It's not as if Robbie and you fly very much alike, and then it was obvious that the _REAL_ Robbie was playing for the other team, which was highly amusing to realize as well. But I gave you the benefit of the doubt. _YOU LIED TO MY FACE_! 'Oh dad- I was watching with the Potter boy!'" He points a finger at me, directing his glare right at me. "And I thought… maybe Robbie's just been taking tips from Livvie… but I still had my suspicions. So I went to the game, watched someone fly around the pitch looking _just_ like my daughter… except looking exactly like my son, and then came here to confirm that this bum was planted here on the couch, and not on a broom in Portree like he's supposed to be."

"I knew I had a bad feeling," I mutter.

"Damn right!" exclaims dad. "Can't fool me! I can spot an imposter son, a quidditch pitch away!"

"Well it took you the majority of the season…" I can't resist pointing out.

"OLIVIA!" growls dad. "I can't believe you went along with this! You're my smart one in the bunch! You're the one that I can rely on _not_ to do stupid shit like this!"

"I'm also _his_ twin," I point out, gesturing to Robbie who is cowering on the sofa.

"I expect this crap from Robbie, not from you! You're smart, like your mother!"

"Well… someone had to get Robbie out of this mess!"

"And I thank you for that!" puts in Robbie.

"And it's been working all season! No one suspects a thing!"

"Until this blows up in your faces! This sort of thing always does!" exclaims dad.

"Well… the question is, are you going to be the one to blow it up?" asks Robbie.

Dad pauses in his pacing, his breathing hard. Finally he looks up. "No," he states. "I… I'll have to think on it, but I think I won't. I'll check the rule book… but…"

"Thank Merlin," I sigh, sagging into the cushions.

"But don't think you're off the hook!" says dad. "You know I can't keep a secret from your mother to save my bloody life. You'll have to tell her!"

"But dad!" I exclaim. Mum is going to go ballistic. Robbie groans into a pillow. _We're all gonna die._

"Don't _BUT DAD_ me! You're the ones who lied to your mother. You're going to have to tell her the truth!"

"Can we at least wait until after the end of the season?" I beg pitifully. "I can't deal with this _and_ the play offs."

"Fine…" mutters dad. "As long as you promise to win… and I wouldn't be upset if you got Rookie of the Year!"

"Deal!" I say, causing Robbie to roll his eyes.

"Also, when you write your book exposing your role in all of this, I knew absolutely nothing."

"Ignorant like a Hufflepuff in History of Magic," I agree. "Got it."

"Merlin… your mum is going to kill you two. How _do_ you get into these situations?"

"Mostly it has to do with me taking advantage of Livvie being a metamorphmagus," sighs Robbie. "I really need to work on dealing with my own problems."

"That question was rhetorical, Robbie," sighs dad, pushing a hand through his still full head of hair. "How much longer does this charade go?"

"Well, Robbie here signed a two year contract with the Falcons… so at least one more season," I confess.

"This needs to stay between the three of us," proclaims dad.

"And Char!" points out Robbie.

"You told your girlfriend?" demands a clearly flabbergasted dad. "HOW DOES THIS HAPPEN!?

"Maybe we should start at the beginning," I decide. This is going to be a long night.

In the end, Dad agrees not to tell mom, or the league. We had to search the rule book on that one, but technically he's not obligated to tell the league and it's not technically a violation of league rules. Although, to be fair, nothing is technically a violation of league rules until it is added to the rule book. Dad's not exactly over the moon, but it doesn't stop him from letting me know how proud he is of my accomplishments this season. He's been impressed with Robbie's work all season and said he wanted to give me credit where credit was due. He was pretty regretful he hadn't seen a single extra Kenmare game, and was pretty much unable to say much about how Robbie's real season went, which is all the same, considering that Robbie's season wasn't really that spectacular. I don't bother reminding Dad what happened the first time the Falcons and the Kestrels faced off this season. When he remembers, Robbie will be in some deep shit.

"This is why Char should have kept her apartment," I tell Robbie after dad leaves, flooing for home so mum won't worry. Considering the game was over hours ago and he left in the middle of it without an explanation, I'd say it's a bit too late, but I don't inform dad. He'll have to come up with his own explanation.

"Dad only came here to confirm. He knew it was you."

"Still, you didn't have to be here, sitting on the couch!"

"Give it a break Livvie! Dad knows!"

"First Char, now Dad… this is getting out of hand!"

"They both agreed to keep it a secret, just relax."

"Easy for you to say. You aren't going to be the one who is going to lose their entire life over this. What if it had been Finn- or my coach- or the league?"

"No one's going to find out."

"Yes they are… and when they do, they're going to be furious with me. I don't know why I ever agreed to this. When this blows up- I'm going to be the one everyone feels most betrayed by. I'm going to be the one everyone is upset with."

"Liv! No one is going to find out."

"Famous last words," I shake my head. "There's no way we make it to the end of next season. We've already had two slip ups. Everyone is going to hate me."

"Not everyone," protests Robbie. "I'll still love you."

* * *

The Arrows beat the Magpies on Saturday, and the fourth week of the tournament starts with the games in the loser's bracket. I convince Finn to go to the Kenmare games on Monday and Thursday, and am pleased to see dad in the coach's box for both. There aren't a ton of people there, but he's made an effort to come to a loser's bracket game that likely won't determine the outcome of the League Championship just to see Robbie in action. Robbie plays fantastically, and the Kestrels advance another two rounds in the loser's bracket.

The Falcons are furiously preparing for the game against the Arrows on Saturday. They're not just good, they're really good, but we're really good too. We haven't actually played them since the beginning of the regular season when they beat us to the snitch. Jasper's been really working for this one, and he's barely missed a snitch all season, but their seeker is good. They're also pretty good against Finn, which not many teams can get much past our defense. We are going to have to work for it.

March Madness has truly set in, leading to some upsets in the lower bracket, knocking out some of the best teams. The Kestrels and the Wasps have upset the Pride and the Magpies with excellent runs in the lower bracket. Robbie's over the moon to have beat the Pride that demolished them so soundly in the regular season. I'm just glad that Dad's been to both the Kestrel games to see Robbie play.

Robbie is thrilled that his team has made a deep run in the tournament, despite his obvious exhaustion from playing so many games in such a short period of time. I on the other hand feel a little too rested by Friday night before our big game. It's been a week since our last game, the same length between games in the regular season, but it feels like an age. Coach has been drilling us on every play we've seen the Arrows run all season, and a few we haven't. We've gone over our playbook forward to backward, and then back to front. Coach's exact words were- 'We're going to run it until you're a well oiled marine.' I think it's a muggle phrase, and I don't really understand, but it got everyone pumped. I feel ready, but it's the playoffs, and anything can happen.

* * *

The morning of the Arrows-Falcon's semifinal dawns cold and rainy. Pretty much exactly what you'd expect for England in April. Donning my game kit feels so different than it did seven months ago for that first game. I've come so far since then, and I'm so excited to be playing in this game. Robbie's going as his alter ego under his glamour charm, and he's decked out in Falcon's gear from head to toe. It's pretty funny to see. He wraps me in a big hug before I leave.

"You're going to do great! Go out there and do the Wood name some good," he says. "Also, I've come up with the perfect thing to get with the bonus if you win."

"And what's that?" I ask, wondering if he's finally moved on from the idea of robotic vacuums. He heard about them in muggle studies and he's recently been bringing them up.

"We could get a helper kneazle. It could help us get rid of mice and fairy infestations… Plus, I've heard they're great at being familiars." Uggh, this again.

"For the last time, we're not getting a helper kneazle," I sigh, putting my bag over my shoulder. I pull out my wand to apparate. "We don't even have any pests!"

"Okay, Livvie. We'll get a kneazle that doesn't help us." Is the last thing I hear before I twist away. _Honestly_ , sometimes I feel like I'm living with Walter. For the record, Walter is nine.

* * *

The sun isn't shining and there's a light drizzle at the stadium. We're playing in the English National Stadium so that neither of us has a home field advantage, and also, the stands can fit twice the number of fans. The stadium is absolutely packed when we fly out onto the field for warm ups, the poor weather not deterring anyone. I make my usual circuit around the field, taking in the energy of the crowd. I'm not sure if it's a miracle straight from Merlin, or if it's magical interference with the weather, but somehow the rain stops before the game starts, and the air warms just enough to make it comfortable. It's nearly perfect quidditch weather- if only the sun were shining and the ground were a little harder for kick off.

The game starts out with a brutal back and forth. By some miracle, I get the first possession, but unfortunately, Montague doesn't make the first shot, and so the Arrows get the first points on the board. After that, Finn steps it up and we lead by thirty points for the first hour. Getting ahead gives us an advantage, and some of our riskier plays pay off, allowing us to extend our lead to sixty.

Three hours into play the score is a tenuous two hundred and ten to one hundred and sixty, and the snitch has been spotted. I've been playing wonderfully all game, and Montague has the quaffle down field from me. We're ahead, and the entire stadium is holding its breath watching Hart and Jones race toward that golden twinkle. I give myself that rare moment of pause to watch it play out with the rest of them. Jasper pulls ahead at the last second, leaning low as he extends his hand, and those delicate fingers brush a wing and it's over.

The crowd explodes, Montague drops the ball and hugs Gregor.

I pump my fist into the air as I watch Jasper loft the golden ball above his head with a wide grin. Amid the cheering of the Falcons fans in the stands, I'm suddenly being ripped off my broom and I'm tumbling through the air.

Screaming, I clutch wildly in the air for my broom, which is nowhere to be found. I flip three times in the air, my cloak whipping around me before I manage to gain any control over the fall.

Spreading my legs wide, I'm able to stay on my back as I fall. One of the first things mum trained us to do was to control the fall onto your back and spread your legs while protecting your neck. Keeping my elbows out, I wrap my hands around the back of my neck and try to keep my body as flat as possible while also remaining relaxed when I'm anything but. I've stopped screaming, but the crowd has noticed my plunge, because they've given a horrified gasp.

Mum trained all seven of us children on how to fall like this after several studies that showed the sprawled position helped slow the fall with air resistance as well as protect the neck and head. She told us to try and relax to help allow our bodies to absorb the impact and make it less damaging. I don't think she realized it was practically impossible to relax when you're plummeting to your likely death. I've never fallen from more than thirty feet, and this was closer to a hundred.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I picture my family and feel a tear leak out.

Without any notice, my fall abruptly halts. If I hadn't been protecting my neck, I probably would have gotten whiplash. The halt is practically instantaneous, and after a three second pause, I find myself dropping the final three feet, gasping for air as I hit the grass with my heart pounding.

Opening my eyes, I look up and see the sky above me, still cloudy and gray, the ground beneath me is wet and mushy. I survived! Finnegan's boot charm! It worked! I feel like I'm going to pass out from the shock and stress of the entire experience. Sitting up, I feel woozy, so I let my head drop between my knees so I don't pass out. Raising a hand in the air I wave so that the crowd can see I'm okay. Taking deep breaths, I try to get over the panic as I thank Merlin I'm alive and also not suffering the pain of a major fall.

Looking up, I run both hands through my tangled mess of hair, still shocked I'm alive. The crowd is still shocked as well, and there's a definite murmur in the air. My hair! Suddenly my panic switches gears into a whole new direction.

The fall was so quick, but as I fell I must have totally lost control of my morphing. I was also picturing in my mind exactly the position I needed to be in to fall appropriately. I pictured myself as me, not Robbie. Somewhere between my broom and the ground, I've allowed myself to return to Livvie. My mouth is hanging open and my eyes are wide with surprise. _SHITSHITSHITSHITSHITSHIT_

 **So I've had this chapter partially written from the very beginning. It's actually one of the first scenes I wrote. I hope you liked it! Please review and tell me what you thought! I should have the next chapter ready to go next week! Love hearing from you guys and thanks so much for all the support I've had writing this story! It's been one of my very favorites to write. Thanks~ E.A.**

 **P.S. If you had a hard time understanding the tournament- look up 13 team double elimination bracket.**


	21. Chapter 21

**Sorry to leave you hanging all week! Thanks for the awesome reviews! And with no further ado:**

The sound of my teammates landing on the grass around me directly follows the realization that I lost control of my morphing in the fall, and I feel my stomach drop as the blood drains from my face. Coach manages to land directly in front of me, looking like he's flown full speed from the coaching box. Mother of Merlin, I'm gonna be sick. His nostrils are flared wide, and his lips are pressed into a fine line while the vein running along his forehead is popped out and pumping away.

"Get the fuck up. Every one of you to the bloody changing rooms," he finally orders. Getting to my feet, I let my head hang a little so I can hide behind my hair. Whether intentional or not, my teammates are all shouldering their brooms and have somehow surrounded me, making the silent walk off the field a little more manageable. The crowd still must not know what to think, because they're still murmuring amongst themselves, rather than celebrating our win like wild people. I wonder what happened to my broom.

Trudging into the changing rooms, we all line up along the bench in front of our lockers. As soon as I reach my place, it's like my knees buckle out from under me, and I can't stand a second longer. Collapsing onto the bench, I let my face fall into my hands. They're all still standing, and staring right at me.

"Who the bloody fucking hell are you?!" demands coach as he storms in and pulls me to my feet. He's taller than me now, and he's looking down on me with pure rage.

I open my mouth a few times, but there isn't a word in the English language that I could manage right now, let alone my name. I feel completely inadequate as my voice box refuses to work.

"Olivia Wood," Montague finally announces. "She's Wood's twin sister."

"And what in the name of Merlin's saggy left bullock were you doing on my field today? Why wasn't your brother out there?"

Once again, I'm unable to answer, but this time it's because I'm not exactly sure what he's asking. It almost sounds like he thinks I've only stood in for Robbie this once.

"The same thing she's been doing all year," Finnegan's voice provides the answer. "It's obvious that Robert Wood has never played a day with this team… Unless they play exactly the same."

"WHAT?!" coach roars, dropping my arm and allowing me to sink back down onto the bench. If I could disappear into myself at this moment, I would. Looking up through my eyelashes, I can see coach working it out in his mind, realizing that at no point in the past ten months has he really seen a different player than the one that helped win the match today.

"But how?" he suddenly asks, sounding completely puzzled. I am pretty sure my teammates don't have the answers to this one. Coach grabs my chin, and forces to me to look at him. "How?" he repeats the question, his lips curled in a snarl. I want to cower, but he's holding me firmly in place.

Shifting my eyes to either side, I can tell the entire locker room is staring at me. Meeting eyes with Jasper, I let myself take on his appearance, really focusing on getting his face right. Coach drops my chin and takes an involuntary step back. I rapidly morph back to myself.

"You're a metamorphmagus!" he gasps, running a hand through his hair. I nod and try to ignore the intense stares from around the room.

I stand rapidly and turn to my locker, grabbing my bag. Finding my voice I manage to squeak out, "I'm sorry I was forced to deceive you. I'm not sorry I got the chance to be a part of this team, though. When Robbie asked me, I didn't ever think it would end like this." Shrugging my bag onto my shoulder, I move to make a quick escape, only to be stopped by Coach's firm grip on my wrist.

"I don't know where you think you're going young lady, but you aren't leaving this stadium until we have a contract with your name on it!" he snaps, dragging me back to my bench.

"But…. You just found out I've been deceiving you all year!" I sputter. "This is a _men's only_ team! I mean… you could probably get me and Robbie thrown in jail."

"And leave us without our star rookie left wing chaser!?" demands Coach, looking at me like I'm a dafty. "We're in the bloody finals next week. No way in hell that management's going to risk dropping you. You might want to call your agent to help re-negotiate your contract."

"But I don't have an agent…" I say.

"You'd better get one," directs coach before turning to the rest of the team. "The rest of you are free to leave. Don't celebrate too hard. Practice bright and early Monday morning!" He claps his hands twice, his usual indication that practice or a game is over.

Turning to my locker, I sink to the bench, once more in shock. I'm not fired. In fact it doesn't sound like I'm in trouble at all. This afternoon has really been too much for me. I'm mechanically removing my pads, which are much too big considering I'm no longer Robbie sized. The whole uniform is much too large, and I'm honestly surprised my boots didn't fall off on the walk over. I do tend to lace them incredibly tightly though.

"What are you doing?" Jasper exclaims, and I look over to see who he's addressing.

"I'm sweaty and gross!" exclaims the half naked Rolland as he tosses a towel over his shoulder. He's already stripped down to his boxers, and I divert my eyes back to my locker.

"There's a lady present!" protests Montague. "Decorum!"

"It's not like she hasn't seen it before," quips Rolland, and I can hear the smirk in his voice as I hear him retreat to the showers. I can feel the blush rising as I know my teammates are realizing the implication. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Jasper's face, and I honestly don't know which of us is redder.

Snatching my duffle bag, I toss it back over my shoulder and bolt before anything else can make this already bad situation any worse. I take the rarely used side door into the hallway that leads to coach's office to avoid any post game media that might be lurking outside the main entrance. Opening the door to Coach's office, I assume he won't have any problems finding me here. The guys will have a pretty good idea where I went, since I was told not to leave. Looking around Coach's office, I can't help but feel comfortable considering it has the same sort of feel as my dad's office in Puddlemere.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, coach shows up with Pollick, our manager, Mr. Quimby, the owner, Smith, the team lawyer, and dad's old agent and lawyer Crowley. I'm not sure how he's managed to show up, but I'm guessing that Dad sent him after what he just witnessed less than an hour ago.

"Miss Wood," greets Quimby, reaching out and shaking my hand. "Quite the show earlier today. I'm sure Coach Birch has already informed you of the plan to sign your contract as expediently as possible. Considering your contention for Rookie of the year, as well as your key role on this Falcon's team not only in the Cup Final next week, but hopefully for seasons to come, we would like to ensure everything is neat and tidy before you go home today."

I can barely register what he's saying. He owns the only traditionally all men's quidditch team in Britain. And he's suddenly alright with a girl who has been posing as a man for the past ten months joining his team officially. The Falcon's are steeped in their all male tradition. You'd never hear of the Harpies signing a man!

"But… I'm a witch!" I finally get out as they sit down around the small table that Coach uses for mapping out plays.

"We've had quite a bit of pressure to convert to co-ed from various individuals, including some in the ministry and the department of games and sports for years. Why it's alright when the Harpies do it, and discrimination against women when we do… That's not exactly clear. This whole situation forces our hand a little, but we think that the media is going to eat this up. The publicity is going to be amazing for our team, and the market expansion alone will be able to pay for your contract. Can you imagine how many little girls are going to want _your_ poster on their wall? The jersey of the first and only female Falcon?!" Quimby looks positively gleeful. "The drama of it alone is going to make you, and this Falcons team _legendary_. We couldn't have converted the team to coed this successfully if we had planned it!"

"So you're not mad?" I ask with raised eyebrows and an incredulous tone.

"You're likely unaware of the legislation currently churning through the ministry, but legal stipulation that employers are unable to discriminate based on gender is going to pass the Wizegamot within five years. Eventually, I think we would have been forced to take on a female player to get the Ministry off our back," answers Mr. Smith. "We've been trying to prepare for this eventuality for a while now."

"Miss Wood," says Crowley, redirecting my attention to him by the simple formality. I've known him my entire life, and him calling me 'Miss Wood' just seems strange. "The Falcons are offering you a very generous three year contract of four million galleons a year with standard bonuses that reward you for scoring, steals, and team wins. It would be in your best interest to take the offer, because although you are likely to receive offers from other teams in the next few days, this one also comes with total forgiveness to any violation of contract your brother made which you were an accessory to."

"Of course," I say with a nod. "I wouldn't want to go anywhere else. Where can I sign?"

Quimby, Pollick, Smith, and Coach are smiling in relief as they pass a multipage contract my way. Glancing through it, it seems pretty standard as to what Robbie's previous contract stated. There's a five percent increase in my money that's made off any official Falcon's products that are marketed with my name or image on them. I now get 15% of all profits, which is quite generous. There are some stipulations about photo shoots and a willingness to do them, which I was not previously required to do as they weren't sure Robbie would be marketable. There's the bonus's list, which is nice to see that if we win the cup next week will be very generous. Skimming about halfway down the third page, I notice something new that I'm sure wasn't in the last contract.

"I must be willing to receive an injection of Vortex Venom?" I ask. What the heck is that?

"Standard part of any female contract," assures Crowley. "It's an injection that prevents pregnancy for the three year duration of the contract. My clients have all assured me that it is painless, but it protects the franchise investment in your contracted time. Even if you feel it's unnecessary, it protects you from the possibility of having to cut a contract short due to an unexpected happy event."

"So basically, it would prevent me having children and having to take off for maternity?" I say, restating his answer to ensure that I understand.

"Essentially yes. Every member of the Harpies has this stipulation in their contract as well as all other female players that I am aware of the details of their contract." Crowley has always worked closely with the Harpies management as a part of their legal team. He also manages some of the best players, both male and female in the league. He's the best of the best when it comes to agent lawyers.

"Clever," I say, holding in a laugh at the look of relief that passes over the male faces in the room. "I don't see anything unreasonable in here. I would like a private shower and changing room added to the locker room. It would be nice not to have to always head home after practice and games."

"Consider it done!" exclaims Quimby. Grinning, I take the proffered quill and sign Olivia Bellina Wood with a flourish.

"Congratulations, Miss Wood, welcome to the team," says Quimby offering his hand. Taking it, I shake it firmly, before shaking hands with the rest of the men in the room. Exiting the Coach's office, Crowley gives me a pat on the shoulder.

"You have no idea how proud your dad's going to be! And relieved, I'm sure!" he laughs. "When he apparated onto my doorstep, I thought all hell had broken loose. I might just make it home in time for dinner!"

"Thank you so much, Crowley," I say sincerely. "You'll be the first I contact before signing my next contract!"

"Sounds good. I don't want you double booking yourself for the next three years!" he laughs. Finally able to go home, I figure I had better face my family sooner rather than later. Mum's going to go ballistic, but at least dad had a heads up after last week.

* * *

By the time I've gotten a chance to apparate to my apartment and take a quick shower, I'm feeling a little better about the whole thing. I decide to head home via floo, and I'm not exactly surprised to see my mother sitting on the sofa facing the fire waiting for me. Her face is deceptively blank, but her arms are crossed and I can tell she's not giddy with joy to see me. I opted to wear a light blue sundress and a white cardigan, hoping that more feminine attire might remind her that I'm her only daughter, so she really doesn't want to murder me and get stuck with only my brothers in her old age. Also, being the only daughter usually helps get me out of trouble with mum and dad.

"Olivia. Bellina. Wood." She says, pausing after each syllable and emphasizing each word. "Sit. Down."

Looking over, I see my brother is already seated on the loveseat with a demure expression on his face. I can feel eyes peering in from the den. I hear a muted 'shhhh' behind me, so the monsters, and likely Davie, are watching the show from the safety of the other room. They're all home for spring break, and I'm certain they're thrilled to have a juicy story to share back at school.

I'm taking my seat when dad waltzes in with a tea tray, looking humorously domestic for the legendary Oliver Wood. I'm sure this is an attempt to butter up mum before she finds out that he's known about our charade for a week.

"Today has been one of the _worst_ days of my _life_. And that's saying something," she says in a tone that is much too calm. Mum's a yeller when she's mad, but when she's livid she's cool as a cucumber. I haven't seen her like this since Kenny nearly burnt down the house with Graeme and Walter in it. "I'm enjoying watching my son play a wonderful game of professional quidditch, and thrilled to see his team clutch the win that will move them on into the Cup Championship. Imagine my shock and surprise when I watch a member of the other team forcibly push my son out of the sky. I'm about ready to have a heart attack, so when my son suddenly morphs into my daughter… You're lucky I didn't faint. I don't buy for a minute that this was a one time thing. I've been watching 'Robbie' play all season, and in retrospect, maybe I might have noticed. What the hell did you two get yourself into?"

"It's my fault, mum," says Robbie before I can say anything. "I practically made her do it!"

"Why would you make her do it though?" asks mum, completely irritated.

"I double booked myself. Signed two contracts! One with the Falcons, and then one with the Kestrels. I've been playing Center Chase for the Kestrels all season," confesses Robbie. "I didn't have the money to buy myself out of the first contract and was too embarrassed to tell you and dad after I'd done it. I knew it would hurt the whole family's reputation, and maybe even ruin Kenny, Quinn, Graeme, and Walt's chances at even getting the opportunity to play professionally. I had to beg Livvie to even consider it."

"What made you think it was a good idea to drag your sister into this mess? How is this not worse than what would have happened had you just done the right thing from the start!?" Mum's wringing her hands, and her voice is a little louder, which is actually less scary than before.

"Actually mum," I say cutting off anything that Robbie might have said. "It's all be straightened out. The Falcons wouldn't let me leave until I'd signed a legitimate three year contract with the team. Robbie's been promised total forgiveness and they've agreed not to press any type of charges against either of us."

"You've signed a contract with the Falcons?!" exclaims mum. "How is that even…?"

"They can't afford to lose me, and they decided taking a woman onto the team was a good marketing strategy."

"But… Didn't you learn anything from your brother's mistake. Never sign a contract without reading it fully and the backing of a good lawyer. If Robbie had waited until he had an agent, this never would have happened!"

"Dad explained everything to Crowley, and sent him over. Everything looked good, and the terms were amazing. He told me I probably couldn't have signed a more favorable contract." I protest, not realizing what I've just revealed until Dad starts shaking his head at me. Mum immediately turns on him with a dark look.

"YOU KNEW ABOUT THIS OLIVER WILLIAM WOOD?" She shrieks, her normally smooth blonde hair starting to frizz and sparkle with magic. I think this is about the angriest I have ever seen my mum at my dad. It would be funny if it wasn't so terrifying.

"Just since last week, Kates," my dad says putting his hands up. "I confronted them after the game last week. I couldn't exactly tell you! I was in a dilemma about what to do as a Coach in the league. The rule book doesn't say anything about fraudulently impersonating another player and working under their contract with their permission."

"I can't believe you!"

"Dad told us we had to tell you!" I interject. "We were going to wait until after the Falcon's finished the season, though! We were going to tell you next week at the latest. Dad said we had to!"

"Well at least now I know what he's been keeping from me all week. I had hoped it was a special twentieth wedding anniversary surprise," says mum deflating. Dad looks like he could kiss me.

"The Falcon's agreed not to press charges?" asks Robbie as silence falls around us.

"You're off the hook. I think that they realized at the end of the day, I was the better contract anyways," I reply, giving him a wink and a smirk.

"In your dreams," snorts Robbie.

"Says the boy whose team isn't in the Cup next week to the League's most likely Rookie of the Year," I taunt, not realizing my mum has vacated her seat on the sofa and is crossing the room. "OWWW!" I moan, rising to my feet as her fingernails dig into my ear, pulling me to my feet. I start to ask what she's doing when she pulls me into a hug that would have suffocated me if she wasn't smaller than me.

Wrapping my arms around my much shorter than me mum, I'm surprised to realize she's sobbing. "Hey, mum. It's okay. I'm really happy I got the contract too, but…"

"It's not that," she says finally pulling back and wiping her eyes with the backs of her hands. "It's just the fact I had to watch you nearly die this afternoon. If that charm hadn't activated… Thank Merlin," she says in explanation. "Thank Merlin for that friend of yours. I still… I'm going to have nightmares for weeks."

"I'm… I'm sorry. It was terrifying, but I hope you noticed my perfectly executed fall position," I say, hoping she'll be able to laugh it off.

"That was quite nice, but I'm not sure how much it would have helped from that height. I hope that stupid arse Goyle doesn't get a slap on the wrist fine. I hope they suspend him at least two or three games into next season," she says with a fury I'm glad isn't directed at me. Kissing her on both cheeks, I try not to grin, thinking about my mum going after the overgrown Jared Goyle. She might not have fought in the war because she was raising her younger brother, but she likes to say she wasn't a member of the DA for nothing.

* * *

Sunday, I manage to make the front page of every single magazine and newspaper. Quidditch Weekly, Witch Weekly, the Prophet, the Quibbler, The Daily Rumor. Robbie and I spend the morning giggling over the articles, especially the speculation in the Rumor that I infiltrated the Falcons on behalf of the Harpies and planned to sell the Falcon secrets to the competition. It's a pretty entertaining morning, but I'm a little disappointed that the drama surrounding my exposed identity has mostly eclipsed the exciting news that the Falcons are in fact playing next week for the League Cup!

The afternoon proves nearly as exciting when a package being carried by four owls arrives just after noon. Inside is an entire new practice kit in my exact size, as well as a new broom to replace the one that shattered into a thousand pieces when I fell yesterday. I can't help but worry that everything I shattered into a thousand pieces won't be as easy to replace or repair. I haven't heard a word from Finnegan all day, and somehow that seems ominous.

 **Hope you liked it! Let me know your thoughts in a review! Keep an eye out next week for the latest update on Livvie and Finn. Also! Check out my _brand new_ story "A Well Developed Sense of Self Preservation." It doesn't have much quidditch (boo) or Oliver Wood (also boo!), but it has Neville Longbottom (yum) and lots of sarcasm (perfecto!). And if you haven't read my other work by now, it's a great day to check out some of my other completed stories. Thanks as always for supporting my favorite hobby! E.A.**


	22. Chapter 22

**Thanks for reading and reviewing! Enjoy!**

Obviously, I'm thrilled to wear my new clothes to practice on Monday morning. Being that this is my first practice as myself, I put a little extra effort into my appearance, braiding my hair across the front of my hairline and into a thick braid that hangs down my back. It's how I used to wear it for Gryffindor matches, and one of the muggleborn third years always giggled and called me a blonde Katniss. I'm not sure why. Hopefully this will keep it from becoming a tangled mess.

Shouldering my broom, I apparate to the stadium, shocked to find a media storm waiting for me.

"Miss Wood, is it true you've signed a three year contract with the Falcons?!" demands a reporter, shoving a recording device in my face.

"Miss Wood, how did you manage to deceive the entire wizarding world for ten months!"

"Miss Wood, what do you have to say to other transgenders such as yourself?!"

"No comment," I say holding up my hand and pushing myself through the crowd around the apparition point and toward the stadium entrance where they'll be stopped by security. "No comment." Being a Wood has prepared me to deal with situations like this. We've had our fair share of media storms. The summer after my first year when my dad retired was the worst. Media camped outside at our house for weeks trying to get an official word on his plans. They didn't realize he was flooing to Puddlemere and coaching the team until it was announced the very first game of the season when he flew out with the team. We weren't allowed outside nearly all summer because mum was worried they would turn it into some sort of news story. We had to floo all the way to Bell Manor, my mum's childhood home, to play quidditch.

Hurrying into the stadium, the security officer that's been familiar with me for months waves me through, even though I know he only knows me as Livvie from my pictures. He gives me a smile and a wink, making me less apprehensive about the crowd following me.

While my run in with the paparazzi doesn't make me late, I'm the last one to the locker room. Hurrying over to my locker, I try to ignore my teammates' looks. I mean… I look totally different, why wouldn't they stare at first. The heaviest set of eyes are those to left and icy blue. I'm still surprised I didn't hear from Finnegan yesterday. The fact that he didn't bother contacting me is probably a bad sign. Strapping on my new pads, I'm just trying to settle into my usual routine.

"So we voted, and everyone except Finnegan and Montague think you should have to change in front of us at least once, since we've been changing in front of you all year," announces Rolland breaking the silence. Looking up, I'm pretty sure he's joking, but it's hard to tell. "Kind of a show us yours, since you already saw ours," he says with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

"In your dreams," I retort with a laugh.

"Every night," says Rolland dramatically with feigned disappointment. "Besides, we all know Finnegan only voted against it because he's already seen it."

"Shut your fucking mouth, MacDougal" snaps Finnegan from behind me, startling everyone in the room with his angry tone.

"I'm just taking the mickey," simpers Rolland putting his hands in the air. "Right Livvie?"

"Don't worry about it Rolland," I say with a casual air. "I'm used to your sense of humor after ten months and knew you were joking. Besides, what would you have to fantasize about if I did decide to prance around in here naked?" I shoot him a wink and focus on fastening my shin guards while Rolland throws back his head and laughs out loud.

"Yeah, we'll keep you, Wood. As long as you're still as sharp on the field as you are off it!" he exclaims as everyone else gives in to their laughter. The only one I don't hear laughing is Finnegan. I sneak a look to my left and catch him looking at me. He hasn't even cracked a smile. I have no idea what to say, so we just look at each other before coach arrives, causing Finnegan to look away while everyone else trails off laughing.

"Enough giggling like a bunch of girls!" barks coach, just like he does every time he comes into a jovial locker room. He seems to do a double take and looks at me apologetically, but I just shake my head at him to say it's okay. "Git your arses… I mean… bums…. Whatever! Get your arses on that field in ten. We're doing drills and gonna break in the rookie!"

I groan, but hurry with my last guard before snatching my broom and heading out the door.

I think coach, and everyone else is surprised that there isn't a difference in my play. The fact that my muscles weren't any stronger when I made them look bigger doesn't seem to make much sense to them. My speed is actually the only thing that's changed, and that's because aerodynamically I'm much more suited to speed without Robbie's broad shoulders and added height for wind resistance. It's a slight adjustment on some of my speed timing with a few of our plays, but my breakaway speed is amazing.

By the end of practice we're all happily sweaty and pleased with the practice. If we keep this up, I think we'll peak at just the right time to help us win the cup. Wouldn't that be amazing! Trudging into the locker room, it's funny being so much shorter than most of the rest of the team. I still have about an inch on Jasper though.

"You know what's not fair?" asks Gregor coming up alongside me and putting an arm across my shoulders, emphasizing that he's finally taller than me. I think he was always a little bothered about being the shortest chaser on the team. I can tell he's chuffed up about being able to look down on me.

"The fact that my younger brothers got new brooms for Christmas, and I used the same broom my entire time at Hogwarts," I answer. That was pretty much shite by the way. Sure, the broom I got after my first year at Hogwarts was a top of the line, newest model, but Kenny has had two, top of the line brand new brooms in the past five years.

"Um… not what I was thinking… but sounds a little unfair. I was going for the fact that you're an even better chaser now that you're a girl," he says with a laugh. Glancing over, despite the laugh, I can tell he's sincere.

"Awww… Thanks, Gregor," I say with exaggerated sweetness turning to hug him. "That's about the nicest thing anyone ever said about me."

"Woah, woah, easy on the merchandise," he says brushing me off. "Just saying we're pretty happy to have you on the team still."

"Thanks, I was pretty pleased myself. Kind of shocked by the whole reaction to be honest," I say following Jasper into the lockers. "I'd miss you guys."

"Awwwwww…. Thanks Livvie," says Gregor wiping an imaginary tear from his eye. Laughing, I shove him toward his locker and head to mine.

There's a general air of excitement about next Saturday's match and today's practice. Rolland's laughing with Jasper about the look on the other team's seeker on Saturday, and Montague has started lecturing Gregor about his left handed throw. Once again, it feels like it's just Finnegan and I in our bubble of silence. Looking over, I can see he's also methodically removing his gear. Tossing my things in my bag, I grab a few clean practice kits off the various shelves in my locker and shove them in my bag so I'll have more than one women's kit at home. Brushing past him on my way out the door, I let my fingers trail over his shoulders discretely and grin as I feel his eyes follow me to the door. Turning at the door, I shoot him a look that says _we need to talk_ before leaving.

* * *

I'm disappointed when Finnegan doesn't follow me home from practice. He knows where I live, so I'm not sure what his excuse is for ignoring me all day and blatantly disregarding the fact that I want to talk to him. By six, I'm more than irritated, and starting to get hungry. Stupid arsehat can't be bothered to even send me an owl.

I order Chinese takeout to be delivered and turn on the radio while I lay on the sofa. If Robbie and Char aren't home soon, I'll probably eat all the Chinese food, which probably isn't the best idea, but hey, I worked my arse off at practice today. I'm casually listening to the news when the doorbell finally rings. Grabbing my muggle money, which I've already counted out, I hurry to the door.

"You aren't the delivery boy," I accuse Finnegan when I open the door to find him on the other side.

"No," he says stepping inside the apartment.

"I didn't invite you in!" I protest as he closes the door behind him and towers over me in his silent way. "What are you doing here?" I ask, deciding that if he's finally going to show up, we'll get down to business so I can eat my Chinese food as soon as it arrives.

He looks like he's unsure of why he's even here. "Honestly, Finnegan! If you've got a bone to pick with me, then let's get to it. You ignored me all the day at practice, and I've barely heard two words out of your mouth since Saturday. I know you're probably feeling betrayed or angry, so just let me have it! I can take it! Just… we have to be on the same team, and if we want to win the Cup this weekend…" I trail off, unsure where my ramble is really going.

Looking up at me, I can't really tell what's going through Finnegan's head. I take a small step back, and find myself backed up to the wall.

"You scared me to death," he whispers, leaning down and using his arms to trap me between him and the wall. "And you confuse the hell out of me."

"Sorry," I whisper. Being this close to him is like playing with fire. I'm honestly not sure if he's going to kiss me or shake me like a ragdoll. He's got more tension in him than a trapped bludger.

"No you're not," he laughs quietly against my lips before pressing his firmly against mine. Merlin he's a good kisser. He's pushed me further up against the wall and has his hand in my hair, and I've got both arms wrapped around his waist, feeling the muscles in his back with the tips of my fingers when the doorbell rings, breaking us apart.

Feeling like an idiot, I manage to pay the delivery boy and send him off without too much blushing.

"Would you like to stay for dinner?" I ask Finnegan, not sure how to act after that phenomenal kiss was interrupted.

"Smells delicious," he says taking the warm bag from me and taking it into the kitchen. Hurrying after him, I pull out some chopsticks and we share the Chinese food I ordered earlier, eating right out of the containers. My mum would keel over dead if she saw us.

Over dinner, Finnegan manages to explain what's been going through that thick head of his. Apparently, watching his teammate Robbie transform into me as I nearly fell to my death was a shocker in more than one way.

"I can't lose you, Liv," he whispers, pulling me into his lap at the small kitchen table. He kisses the side of my neck and wraps both arms around me tightly.

"I'm not going anywhere. A certain someone gave me a magical charm that saved me from the fall," I reply soothingly.

"No, I mean, I can't lose you. Marry me, Liv?"

"Fin," I say, totally lost for words.

"I was going to ask you to move in with me as soon as the season ended, so we could adjust when I wasn't practicing every day. I was thinking that would be a good next step. But honestly… I don't think that would be enough. I… I love you so much, and as much as it kills me to know you've been lying to me since we met, it also kills me to know what you've gone through. What you've put yourself through for your brother. And, I'll admit I'm more than a little impressed. Although it makes me sick when I think of how often you've been targeted with bludgers. And I'm more than a little embarrassed at how much of our teammates… and me for that matter, you've seen in the locker room. Merlin, the things we probably said in front of you!" He's rambling, which he's prone to do when he's trying to speak and gets nervous.

"I love you too," I say with a grin, after kissing him into silence. "And… I wouldn't be opposed to being the first married couple on the Falcon's. Maybe not for a while. I think we should have a bit of a long engagement, but we could at least move in together after the cup. I think Robbie and Char would like me out of their hair."

"Why can't we move in together this week?" he asks, nipping the side of my neck and propelling himself out of the chair with me wrapped around his waist.

"I think we might be a little too distracted if we moved in together this week," I say with a gasp as he presses me up against the kitchen wall, one of his hands slipping under my shirt.

"By what?" he asks before ducking his head to kiss me on the lips, making me wish we were a little closer to my bedroom.

"This!" I laugh, finally pulling myself out of the kiss, feeling him run his hand down my side, causing me to shiver. Finn needs to stop, or we're going to be naked in the kitchen when Robbie gets home from wherever he disappeared to tonight.

"Maybe, but a little distraction never killed us," murmurs Finn into my hair as he unfastens my bra.

"Finn," I sigh. "You're killing me."

"No, just persuading you," he laughs, the rumble in his chest a deep vibration that passes through me as well. He's nibbling down my neck, and on the exposed part of my collarbone, but I can feel him toying with the end of my shirt, indicating he's going to pull it over my head any minute.

"Fine you win," I gasp as he hits a particularly tender spot on my neck. "But Robbie will be home any minute, can we at least move this to my bedroom?"

"I thought you would never ask," replies Finn with a smirk, lifting me off the wall with ease, and carrying me assuredly to my bedroom before tossing me on the bed. Kneeling down, he pulls my shirt over my head before stepping back and removing his own shirt, revealing that muscled chest that I have a hard time not staring at on a daily basis.

"Like what you see?" he jokes, cocking an eyebrow at me before bending to shuck his trousers.

"I've always known you were a keeper," I joke back as he grabs my ankles.

His laugh makes me want to cry in relief that we can still be like this after everything that's happened these past few days. In the back of my mind was the fear that this was over. Thank goodness it's anything but over. In fact, it's not over until quite early in the morning, and the fact that Finn and I are able to arrive at practice the next morning via side along apparition is actually quite nice. Although, I've already told him, that we can't make a habit of it until after the cup is over.

Entering the lockers hand in hand, I try not to blush at the speculative looks by our teammates, but Finn shoots them his icy blue glare, and they back off. Having a giant for a boyfriend has its benefits. Later, on the field, Duncan seems to take pleasure in pointing out the love bite that Finn must have left on the side of my neck. Montague and Gregor find it hilarious, and are lucky that Finn was too far downfield to hear the conversation. Cobbing Montague in the face with a blatant foul, I snatch the ball out of his hands and barrel down the field toward the goals and manage to get one past my boyfriend in a fit of rage and embarrassment. I flit by him on my broom and glare at him on my way back to midfield, passing my still laughing teammates who are now laughing at our befuddled keeper.

"What did she do? Shag your brains out last night? You're supposed to block those, Finnegan!" calls Rolland, in his typical crude manner from the right side of the field. Murphy growls, and tosses the ball back into play, but I can tell he's steaming now. This practice just got tougher. Shooting a glare at our right wing beater, I shoot across the pitch and grab the quaffle, Montague and Gregor following my lead, still laughing.

* * *

Tuesday afternoon is the Wasps vs. Kestrels game which will determine who plays the Arrows in the loser's bracket Semi Final on Thursday.

Mum, dad, Davie, and the monsters are all in attendance in the family box to cheer on Robbie Wood, who has officially been listed on the roster. I can't help but wonder if the coaching staff only allowed it since now they will be able to resell all the Robbie Bellringer jerseys and merchandise next year under his real name.

Finn and I manage to make the start of the game just after practice gets out. I've barely had time to rush home and change.

"Livvie!" exclaims Graeme, home with the rest of the boys on spring break for the Easter holiday.

"Wotcher!" I say, tossing him one of my new jerseys. It has O. Wood on it, rather than the previous R. Wood.

"Well if it isn't the Female Falcon?" announces Davie, coming over and pulling me into his arms. Kenny, Quinn, Walter, and Graeme are all gathered around me in seconds.

"I see how it is… suddenly my girlfriend is a famous pro quidditch player and everyone forgets I exist," complains Finn.

"Get used to it, number two," I suggest, giving him a wink. He rolls his eyes and gives me a lopsided grin.

"Finn!" exclaims Kenny, abandoning me. "Did you come to watch the game with us? Who do you think will win? Did you know Livvie was pretending to be Robbie all year?"

We end up in the front of the family box, watching Robbie play magnificently against the Wasps. He manages to show off his characteristic ambidextrous shooting, and he's been playing great this post season. I'm not sure if our cheering section made the difference, but he had a personal record number of goals _and_ assists.

The score is 200 to 280 in favor of the Kestrels, and Finn and I are on the edge of our seats waiting for the snitch to be spotted. I reach into his bucket of popcorn, and he pulls it away with a snort of protest. Full disclosure, I've eaten more of that popcorn than he has.

"The snitch!" exclaims Quinn, pointing across the pitch. Sure enough there's a golden glint of movement down the field. Glancing back at the seekers who are hovering near the opposite side goal posts, neither has spotted it. The entire family box watches the snitch for a few minutes before it skitters out of sight behind a screen of green robed quidditch players that obscure our view.

Nearly an hour later, the Kestrels' lead has extended to 390 to 280. The stadium lights are on, and the game is turning into a bit of a long one. Finn went and got some nachos, and I sit on his lap while we share them. He swats my hand away as I make a grab for the last one, just as the crowd gives a gasp. He looks back up at the game distracted, and I scarf it down before looking up.

The Wasps seeker has caught the snitch. The Wimbourne fans are cheering insanely, but I look across the field to see Robbie. His face is tight, and I can tell he's seriously disappointed. His team has been knocked out of the tournament by a snitch. He played wonderfully, and they lost by 40 points due to a snitch.

However, his wide smile when he walks out of the player's locker room with his bag over his shoulder and a ball cap pulled over his freshly showered hair and sees the entire family wearing matching R. Wood jerseys is far from devastated.

"ROBBIE!" yells mum. "Over here!"

"Pretty sure he can't miss us, mum." Points out Quinn. "We're all wearing bright green, more than half of us are over six feet tall, and you're holding a giant sign that has his name written on it in blinking gold and green letters."

* * *

Practice the rest of the week is an adjustment. The team still plays just as well as ever, but the dynamic has changed. Finnegan still gets his share of teasing about his girlfriend, but now that everyone knows it's me, well… That's been interesting. And it's funny how defensive Finn gets about the whole thing. Rolland is going to get punched one of these days.

Thursday, the entire team watches the Arrows demolish the Wasps. Even without their left chase, Goyle, they are still playing well. I make special observations on their replacement Kendra McNabb. We watch from the players box and take notes, analyzing every bit of play. We'll only have one more practice to get set for the final.

We haven't told anyone we're engaged, but Finn asked me what kind of ring I wanted. I told him it better be big enough to impress on the cover of Witch Weekly, but he knows I was just joking. We've decided we won't announce it until after the Cup, and since he hadn't exactly planned to propose on Monday night, I'm sure I won't have a ring until then either. Which is fine, because it's nice having a secret between the two of us after so many of the secrets I used to keep from him.

We haven't had any more sleepovers, but we've been eating dinner together all week, and have spent a lot of our time outside of practice together. We've been talking about the past year and doing a lot of strategizing for our game against the Arrows. O.K. So we've been doing a lot of snogging too. But in all fairness, it's really hard to keep your lips to yourself when you've got a fiancé who is such a good kisser.

* * *

The night before the finals, Finn invites me over and we have pasta for dinner at his place. We both try to keep the conversation light, but I can tell both of us are pretty anxious about tomorrow when we are going to be facing the Arrows in the Cup Finals. The tension is somewhat relieved after dinner when we manage to distract ourselves during a fantastic snog session on his sofa.

"I think I had better leave soon, big game tomorrow and all," I finally manage to say after a while.

"I have a feeling you will probably get a little more sleep in your own bed," laughs Finn. "I have something for you." He pulls out his wand and summons something from behind me.

"I was hoping you would wear this tomorrow," he says, opening a small black box to reveal the most gorgeous engagement ring I have ever seen. And I'm not biased just because it's mine. He slips it on my finger for a perfect fit. The diamond glints up at me with a mysterious sparkle. Holding it up to the light, there are two small onyx stones on either side of the huge diamond, hidden in the whimsical swirls twisting around the band. Turning my hand, I notice a small golden glint on the ring, pulling it closer, I realize it's a miniscule snitch hidden in the band's platinum band.

"Do you like it, luv?" asks Fin, sounding unsure of himself.

"Of course I do!" I exclaim. "It's perfect! And it's from you, so how could I not?"

"I thought you might like to wear it around your neck when you're playing, so I got you a chain for it," he says, pulling a delicate chain from the box. I slip the ring onto the chain and allow him to fasten it around my neck.

"The perfect good luck charm for tomorrow," I announce with a smile.

"Speaking of which, I had better get you home, we need our rest."

We indulge in a few kisses before he walks me to the floo and I head home, my engagement ring hidden from the world beneath my sweater, cool against my skin.

 **Thanks you all so much for the overwhelmingly positive reaction to last chapter! Hope you liked this one! Being dramatic isnt really Finns MO, so sorry if you were expecting lots of drama. Thanks for everyone who gave my new story a chance as well. Second chapter will be up later today as well! Thanks again for reading and reviewing! E.A.**


	23. Chapter 23

The morning of the tournament final dawns sunny and bright, the spring air crisp and cool. Char is sleeping in, but Robbie joins me for a breakfast of Lucky Charms.

"Just think, this is probably the last time we'll do this together," he says around a mouthful of marshmallows. He always saves those for last.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, Finnegan's going to have you living with him next season, and Char is going to turn your bedroom into a home office," he says with a frown. "I thought it might be a nice trophy room."

"Because you have enough awards to fill one," I put in sarcastically.

"It was just an idea," sulks Robbie. "But do you think you and Finnegan will make a go of it?"

"He asked me to move in with him earlier this week," I confess.

"I _knew_ it!"

"It must have been your _twin_ tuition," I joke. "He thought we should move in together when the season ends. His house in Falmouth is really great, and it's so close to work."

"Awww…. Are you going to be one of those couples that share a broom ride into work?" His voice is sugary sweet.

"That does sound rather romantic," I say with a fake sigh and flutter of my eyelashes.

"More likely the two of you race each other, causing a complete spectacle every morning."

"Much more likely," I agree with a smirk.

"You worried about the game?"

"What the hell, Robbie!? I'm a Wood. I'm excited!"

* * *

I arrive at the stadium in my brand new game kit. It fits perfectly, and the _O. Wood_ on the back makes me want to squeal in excitement like a third year girl her first time in Hogsmeade. I enter the locker room to find most of my teammates there, performing the usual pregame rituals. Jasper is doing his positive visualization technique where he envisions catching the snitch. He has his eyes closed and is slightly swaying as if meditating. Duncan and Rolland are putting on their gear while making rude faces at each other and mouthing curse words to pump themselves up. Montague has his playbook open on his lap and is flipping through plays that he's had memorized since August, while Gregor has a set of muggle headphones in his ears and is jamming out while he laces up his shoes.

Tossing my bag in my locker, I reach for my pads, starting the process of lacing them up. I'm halfway done, when a warm body settles on the bench right next to me. I know it's Finn without even glancing over. I offer him my right arm, and he laces up the guard before I do the same for him.

When coach storms in, full of bluster and vim, we swivel on the bench and everyone listens to him rant for a few moments. I don't hear much of what he says, focusing instead on the feel of Finn's arm around me, tucking me into his side. I love this calm before the game, when we're sheltered in the locker room it's like we're in the eye of the hurricane. By now, the stands are filled to capacity, and the crowd is likely working itself into a frenzy.

"Now let's go out there and show them that we're the best bloody team in this whole fucking league!"

My teammates are letting out manly roars of enthusiasm and on their feet stomping and clapping, and I want to laugh at the idea of yelling. Participating in such a masculine ritual as myself seems suddenly so ridiculous, but it's the Falcons. I can't hold it in, and my laugh is about to break forth when Finn swings me in his arms, bends me backwards, and plants one on me, causing time to nearly stop.

When he pulls away, he's managed to grab both our brooms and hands me mine. I'm still a little dazed, and out of the corner of my eye, I can see Rolland watching us with a smirk. He winks, before shouldering his broom and lining up to file out the room. Finn prods me forward, and I turn around to look at his twinkling blue eyes.

"What was that for?!" I hiss.

"Good luck ritual," he grins back. "Fantastic surprise kisses."

"A little warning next time!" I hiss back, my hand on my hip.

"If I warned you, then it wouldn't be a surprise!"

I huff and follow Rolland out of the room, down the player's tunnel to the entrance of the pitch. Looking out, all you can see is the stands completely full of fans. The biggest stadium in England, and it's filled to capacity. The light show has ended, and the announcer is announcing the Arrows players who shoot out of their tunnel with a burst of color, the fireworks whizzing past them as they take flight. They make a lap around the stadium before we're announced.

When my name is called, I kick off and make my usual flight round the pitch, trying not to notice how much louder the cheers are than normal, and smiling secretly when I see a troop of Witch Scouts wearing their uniforms and holding a huge banner that reads, _Olivia Wood, Win for Us! #WitchesRule_. I blow them a kiss and wave with a smile, causing them to jump up and down in excitement. Flying past the family box, I wave at my family before falling into my pattern of standard warm up maneuvers before Coach tosses me a quaffle and the three of us chasers engage in a rapid set of passing drills.

Warm ups last exactly 20 minutes before we're called down for the toss. Montague and McLaggan shake hands, and the rest of us line up. I look across the way at Kendra McNabb, their new left chase. She looks practically green. She played well against the Wasps, but not spectacularly. I'm going to humiliate her so badly, her ancestors will hide their faces in their portraits.

The whistle blows, and I'm off like a cannon, snagging the first possession as the crowd roars in excitement. I spin away from a bludger, and pass to Bork, dropping into formation next to Montague. We pass the ball between the three of us as we storm the rings, coming up to the left hand ring and I score the first ten points for Falmouth. The gong sounds, the crowd cheers, and we're off again, tailing the Arrows. I crowd in next to McNabb, and when she gets a pass, I sidle up to her easily, snagging the ball from under her arm, and doing a swift upside down reverse and twist, we're heading back toward the Arrow's posts. This time Bork takes the shot, and with another bang of the gong, we're up 20 points to nothing.

Within the first hour, it's obvious that these Arrows aren't the same ones we've seen all season, and it's obvious that this isn't going to be the same tooth and nail match we fought last week. McNabb is good, but not part of a well oiled machine. The chasers are missing passes, falling out of formation, and poor McLaggan is going to lose his voice screaming out directions.

We've pulled so far ahead, by the time the snitch is caught, it's a bit of an afterthought. With the snitch caught, we've won by over 400 points. The final score of 540 to 110 is rather outstanding, and not really a fair reflection of how well the Arrows played all season. But we've beat them twice this tournament and we're the champions.

When Jasper catches the snitch, the Falcon's fans are going completely crazy, which considering we haven't won a tournament in over fifteen years is pretty exciting for most of them. I'm right in front of the family box when play stops, and I look over to see my family celebrating and I throw back my head and let out the Falcon Cry with all of the fans in the stands as the snitch chimes start. We won! We really won!

x

I'm startled when I feel an arm wrap around me, and suddenly Finn is right there grinning, tears in his eyes. If I could jump off my broom, I might have, but I settled for throwing myself against him and kissing the daylights out of him.

"Fifty-four saves!" I exclaim, pulling away. "Merlin you're amazing!"

"Twenty-one goals, you're amazing!" he says against my lips pulling me back in.

"Hey! Wake up you two! There's a whole team here that wants to celebrate too!" exclaims Rolland from right below us, where the team is gathering. Coach is already making his way from the coaching box. We shoot down to the field, dropping our brooms in the grass as we throw ourselves into the huddle of our teammates gathered around Jasper who is holding the snitch aloft. The stands are chanting out the fight song, and coach has actual tears running down his face when he finally lands pulling us each into bear hugs as he greets us.

"That was beautiful, Wood," he says shaking his head. "Pure artistry. And Finnegan, that might be a league record for a Cup game."

We're all hugging and crying and finally, Finn and I are kissing again while Rolland makes gagging noises in the background. When Albert Jorkins, the current Commissioner arrives from the executive box, management right on his heels, we've settled a bit into the proper solemnity for receiving the award. A stage appears in the middle of the pitch, and the commissioner steps up to the podium. He presents the award to Coach, who passes it to an exuberant Montague who has a boyish grin on his sweaty face, who passes it to the rest of the team. Rolland plants a kiss on the cup before reverently passing it to me. I loft it into the air amid the cheers of the crowd and grin before passing it to Hart who at the end of the line has the opportunity to clutch it to his chest for a few moments before management comes over to get their grubby hands on it.

Then, Jorkins announces that they will be revealing the Cup MVP. We all hold our breath a little, it could be any of us, but I think we all know who it will be. When Finnegan's name is announced, his crooked grin appears as he steps up to shake hands with the commissioner and take the award. He returns to his place in line next to Montague, who pats him on the back and whispers something in his ear. Finnegan looks over to me, and I mouth _I love you_ , and blow a kiss. The commissioner walks down the line and shakes each of our hands, and then we're arranged into a traditional photo, the cup cradled in Jasper's hands as we all stand in neat formation with the commissioner, Coach, and management. I know my hair is probably coming lose, and my grin is too big, but it's going to be a great picture. Standing next to Finn, who is splitting center with Montague, I look over at him and finally have a chance to give him that congratulatory kiss for making MVP. I hear another click, but I guess the press will get their shot either way.

After that, it's passing the cup, and greeting the family that's arriving on the field, pushing their way through the press to lift me in the air and pass me from brother to brother until I end up in my dad's strong arms. There's champagne bottles opening, the corks shooting across the field, wizards letting off fireworks, the stadium is blaring celebratory music.

"You've always been my number one girl," dad says, tears in his eyes as he buzzes his lips against my cheek. "I'm so proud. You were magnificent! Total MVP in my book."

"I'm your only daughter," I sigh with a roll of my eyes before pulling him tight. When Oliver Wood says you were amazing, you know you played well, even if you are his only daughter and he's biased as shit.

"Livvie's first league cup!" exclaims mum, snapping a candid photo before pulling me in for a hug. "And Finn! Come get a picture of the two of you!"

Finn turns from his parents who have stormed the field as well and are grinning. His mum is holding his MVP trophy with a reverence that might have been reserved for Merlin's Wand. They both gasp and pull me in for hugs. Finn and I pose for a picture for mum, but soon we're back in the locker room, changing quickly before we head to the victory party at Montague's.

It's a bit of a blur once they brought out the fire whiskey, but the food was great, and everyone was over the moon to have won in an undefeated tournament run.

* * *

The next morning, I wake up at Finnegan's. I'm tucked into his side, and I'm probably a bit hungover. I don't tend to overindulge, but last night was a huge celebration. I'm pretty sure the minister of magic himself showed up at Montague's last night. Last night made every stress of the year worth it. I'm not saying quidditch is only fun when you win, but it makes a pretty big difference.

"Good morning, luv," comes Finn's gruff morning voice as he rolls over and pulls me tight against his warm chest.

"Good morning, Mr. MVP," I say leaning over and kissing him on the cheek. His lips twitch in a grin.

"I could get used to hearing that," he says.

"Mmm… don't get too used it. I expect to steal the title from you next year," I joke.

"In your dreams, Wood," he laughs.

"All night long," I giggle.

We flip through the Prophet, Quidditch Quarterly's Special Edition, Quidditch Weekly, Witch Weekly, the Quibbler, and The Daily Rumor over breakfast. I magic up some pancakes, and we flip through all the articles, clipping them out and putting them in the keepsake box Finn's mother started for him back at Hogwarts. I know mum will be spellotaping them into a scrapbook for me by noon and owling Gran and Grandpa Wood to collect extra copies from their friends.

"That's one nice picture," Finn says, causing me to look over from the bacon I'm frying to see a large full page color photo of us kissing mid-air after the snitch was caught. My blonde braid is flying in the wind, and Finn's big gloved keeper hand is wrapped around my waist, and our robes ripple in the wind. His large body dwarfing mine makes me seem impossibly small, even in quidditch gear on a broom. We grin at each other before photo-me wraps my arms around his shoulders, pulling him in for a kiss. The headline above the photo proclaims _CUP MVP TAKEN LADIES!_

"Damn right," I say with a grin. "Hands off fan-girls. I'm keeping this keeper!"

"Funny how _I'm_ the taken one," ponders Murphy. "What about you? No chasing my chaser!"

"You're reading Witch Weekly," I point out helpfully. "Typical readership won't exactly care if _I'm_ single."

"Good point," he concedes.

"So how bad do you think media Monday will be?" I ask with a grin.

"Worse than usual considering this will be their opportunity to get the scoop on your season, _and_ our relationship."

"I think I'll wear a dress," I decide. "Make them think they'll have it easy."

* * *

Somehow we make it through Media Monday, the day that basically everyone in pro-quidditch is forced into interviews about the previous season and the upcoming one. Reporters barrage you with questions, and things you say might not make the news until next August where they're construed into something entirely different. Dad absolutely dreads this day all year. He frets more about it than a mouth healer visit, and he doesn't really care for those at all.

It's held in the ballroom on the seventh floor in the ministry of Magic, Department of Games and Sports. We'll all be back here for the end of year banquet next week, but today is always a mess. I wear a gray dress, a black blazer, and a pair of gold stiletto heels that make me taller than the majority of the reporters (so I can look down on them). I stay close to Finn, but can't help but keep an eye on Robbie.

He's under a bit of heat from the League for his shenanigans. Apparently, the Falcon's have totally forgiven him, but the fact that he signed two contracts wasn't as okay with his team, who are upset that they marketed him under a lesser name for the past year under false pretenses. They've decided to fine him for the rebranding, which I find ridiculous considering they're going to make a huge profit reselling all the merchandise with his real name on it.

Dad seems to have the same idea as me, because I can see him keeping near Robbie as well. I'm not sure exactly what we're supposed to do if something idiotic comes out of his mouth, but I guess we'll be there for moral support. I think I answer a hundred questions about my fall, am asked a thousand times about my relationship with Finn, and only one person thinks to ask me what I'm predicting for next year. All in all, media madness is done, and I'm not looking forward to it again next year. Honestly the appetizers they serve that are supposed to make the entire thing worth it weren't even that good.

* * *

The League Banquet is the following Saturday and officially closes the season. I have a lace gold dress to wear to the occasion, a floor length mermaid gown with a sweetheart neckline. The headpiece that goes with it makes it another twenties throwback, but it coordinates with the three piece suit I got for Finn. It's really flattering with my subtle tan, and I feel fabulous.

The Falcons get front row seats at the banquet, our tables being the closest to the stage. Across the way are the Arrows, and just a few tables over Robbie. Poor mum and dad are in the back half of the room with Davie at the Puddlemere tables, in what dad always calls 'The drowning your season's disappointment in firewhiskey section.'

The dinner is followed by awards and speeches. The speeches everyone ignores while we drink and finish our dessert, but the awards are something to perk up for. The first to be presented is the Dangerous Dai Commemorative Medal, which ends up going to Matthew Lewis, the Tornado's Keeper who is always nearly falling off his broom or crashing into someone making a fantastic save. It's entertaining, it's usually not a foul, and the fans love him for it. His team can't catch a snitch to save their life, and they didn't have a great season, but every game was entertaining.

The next award, The Septimus Selby Snitch Snatcher Award goes to the seeker with the most snitches in the fastest time on the season. No one is really surprised when it goes to the Arrow's Seeker Liam Jones. The Perseus Black Distinguished Coaching Award ends up going to Coach Birch, which isn't uncommon when a team wins the cup for the first time under a new coach. In fact, it's unusual if they _don't_ win it. We all stand and clap wildly when a beaming and blushing Coach marches up to the podium to accept.

There are a myriad of other awards, including Foulest Player(Jared Goyle), Kingman's Keeper of the Year (Murphy Finnegan), Most Sportsmanlike Team (Chudley Cannons-hey they have to win something), Best Gameday Experience (Wingtown Warriors), Most Charismatic Captain (Gretchen Winners), Most Coordinated Clobberers (Zilich Twins), and finally Rookie of the Year.

I'm thrilled when they announce Murphy for Kingman's, and he honestly looks a little shocked, but I kiss him quick and then nudge him into action. He accepts it humbly, just like he did the Cup MVP award. We all know his performance this season has been stellar. He's really allowed the chasers to take control of many of the games this season, even ones where Jasper didn't catch the snitch allowing us to still win.

Rookie of the Year is one of the biggest awards. It's given every year to someone who stands out among first year first string players. It's a big one because anyone can win, seeker to keeper, and it's usually the harbinger of a standout career. Dad won in '97, and Davie won in '10, and it's been widely accepted that I'm a real contender for this year. Finnegan takes my hand under the table and squeezes as the commissioner takes back the podium from the Zilich Twins and looks down at the next card.

"The next award for Rookie of the Year goes to a player who has been most deserving of this award for many reasons. Not only has this player set team and league records this season and contributed monumentally to their team's success, but they have also changed the league forever in a positive way. This League's Rookie of the Year goes to Miss Olivia Wood, the _first_ female Falcon." The commissioner pauses for effect as the crowd cheers. I can feel Finn pressing a kiss to my cheek, but I'm in shock. I mean… I thought maybe, but… "On the field she's demonstrated an unparalleled ability to steal the ball from her opponents, setting a new league record for a single game. She's also demonstrated an aptitude for teamwork, setting a team record for number of assists in a single season. Her ability to break through barriers of tradition has forever changed the Falcons team. It's been a pleasure to watch her this season, and I'm excited to see more from her in the future. Please come on up to accept your award Miss Wood!"

I'm nervous and my hands are sweating. I try and think about what Murphy said in his little acceptance speech but my mind is blank. I should have prepared something, but I was sure it would jinx it. I hurry to the podium and accept the trophy from the commissioner and shake his hand with a smile.

I step up to the microphone and give my audience a smile as they slow their applause. "Hi…." I start awkwardly. "I never really expected to be here today, you know I didn't really have any first string offers at the end of my seventh year. I guess I was lucky my brother had two, right?" I pause and let out a shaky breath as everyone laughs. "The truth is, as a woman in quidditch, we're constantly underestimated. I had an opportunity to show everyone how good I could be without everyone knowing I was a woman. And somewhere along the way-between my first professional game and today, I realized I can be just as good as any male player in this league if I just believed in myself and worked hard enough. I'm so honored to have received this award which reinforces my belief that hard work, determination, and courage can get you anywhere. I've been blessed with talent and a wonderful support system that helped me through this entire season. My teammates and coaches have taught me so much this year, and I've been honored to have been a part of this year's Falmouth Falcon's team. Coach, you were inspiring! Montague and Gregor, working with you has been a dream come true. Rolland and Duncan, you're like two more brothers I didn't really need, but you guys make me laugh every practice. Jasper, the advice on the ladies was not really wanted or appreciated, but you were the first to accept me on the team, and for that I'm forever grateful." The team is laughing from their table, and I am feeling a little better about the whole _giving_ a speech thing. "I'd like to give special thanks to my twin brother Robbie, who lent me his identity and some of his confidence which allowed me to even play this year. Thanks also to my dad, Oliver Wood, who taught me everything he knows about quidditch, my mum, Katie Wood, who healed my numerous quidditch injuries growing up, and my brothers David, Kenny, Quinn, Graeme, and Walter, who never failed to take me up on an offer of pick up quidditch. And last, to my best friend and fiancé, Murphy Finnegan, who has been with me through this crazy season, from when we were eating donuts scouting the Kestrel games to Media Monday, I couldn't have done it without you. Once again, thank you for this award, it means so much! I can't wait to show everyone what I can do next year!"

I hurry away from the podium amid the roaring applause, and sink into my seat next to Finn, sighing with relief. He leans over and presses a kiss on my forehead, pulling me into his side as the commissioner steps back up for the next award.

"Best friend and _fiancé_ ," he whispers in my ear as the commissioner goes on about the next award. I sit up straighter in my chair. _Did I say that?_ Out loud!?

"Feck…" I mutter as he chuckles.

"I figure the odds of me surviving your dad and brothers are better this way," he laughs. "Now I don't _really_ have to tell them to their faces. They'll have time to cool off."

"They're all going to be so happy for me. I don't know what you're talking about," I protest in a hiss. Fin has been worried he should have asked dad first, but I am an independent witch and asking my father for my hand in marriage goes against that. And also, I think Finn is actually terrified of my dad.

"Your dad's face is the color of a tomato, and he looks like he's going to explode any minute," points out Rolland on the other side of me with a grin.

"Merlin's left bullock," I sigh glancing over my shoulder to see dad looking at Finnegan with a glare.

"Well, you did say no more secrets," concedes Finn.

"Cat's out of the bag I guess…"

 **Thank you all so much for your support and enthusiasm as I wrote this. It's been so fun to write and see your reactions. I hope you liked it. I already have an epilogue of sorts in the works. Thanks again for reading and please review. Also, check out my other fics too. Thanks so much! E.A.**


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